Only Familiar
by Zylstra
Summary: When memory is pitch black, the only guiding lights are familiar feelings. SJ.
1. Chapter 1

**Only Familiar**

"_Sir, the 'Simpson's Movie' hardly counts as a movie," laughs Sam as she takes a seat in the commissary. _

"_Oh, why not?" came Jack's reply, disappointment clear in his voice with just a hint of whining. "It's got the word 'movie' in the title, for crying out loud!"_

"_I'm sorry, but little yellow figures hardly constitute a movie in my books," she counters as she takes a bite of her pie. "I mean, cut out some useless dialogue and I'm sure they could have made it into a two-part television episode."_

_He shakes his head and takes a bite from his own piece of pie. "That…You…I cannot believe…" He's speechless with disbelief and waggles his fork in attempt to emphasize his point, earning him a giggle. "You know what? I'm just going to forget you ever said that."_

Chapter One

The remnant weight of sleep presses down on me as I open my eyes, and realise only then I've been unconscious. I pull myself upright; it's an easier task than I'd anticipated it'd be.

The next thing I notice is that there are eyes on me. A man stands a distance away, watching me unashamedly. I start to shiver, and yet as I rub my arms I feel it's probably more a self-conscious action rather than for warmth. The man picks up a device and activates it.

"She's awake," he says into it.

And then he's watching me again. I make a point to look away; his eyes are impatient; I don't know him and yet I feel he's waiting for me to meet his unspoken expectations.

I scan the room as quickly as I can, unwilling to remain completely ignorant of my surroundings while still fearful of what I might find them to be. It's one room but the place is huge. The walls to my left are covered in shelves, holding a vast number of intriguing items that I could never hope to understand the function of. Under the shelves stands a long sort of… cabinet… box; gold in colour. I'm not quite sure what it is. Ahead of me, along the back wall, is a cabinet of some description and on it are a hundred bottles and jars, each containing liquids of every colour, that cling to their glass walls with their creepily slimy consistency. Opposite is a chair that sits strangely in the middle of the room granted audience by a panel which stands on a pedestal. It's angled away from me and I can't see it clearly from here but that doesn't matter. Not even my curiosity can completely overwhelm my fear at the moment.

"Where am I?" I say, my voice shaking slightly. As I finally ask, I hope my question is loud enough for the man to hear.

It seems he finds this… amusing, this man watching me. I chance a glance up at him as those three words run through my head at a hundred miles per hour, being questioned and analysed for some sort of misconstrued meaning or joke. But, despite my best efforts and most abstract, cryptic thinking, I can find nothing.

I am sorely tempted to refrain from asking more questions for fear that this man will find it amusing again, but I find the words rise to my lips like bubbles in a cup of water – unstoppable curiosity. "What am I doing here?" What I somehow knew would happen, happens; his smile grows.

Why is he pleased that I can't remember anything?

"What do you think you're doing?" There's a new voice, loud and clear, that comes from somebody who enters the room. "This is a medical bay, not entertainment. Leave at once!" The man seems to wither like a flower in the snow and does as he is bid without question.

That leaves the newcomer.

"Are you alright?" he asks as he comes fully into my sight for the first time.

With me sitting on some kind of stretcher, the newcomer towers above me with his tall, muscled figure. His dark hair is short and a carefully shaped beard grows on his face, as though even it is defined by the sense of authority he emits. His long, black coat floats a little as he walks, revealing a small amount of the red vest embroidered with gold he wore – my knight in shining armour.

Overwhelmed with his presence, I avoid his eyes as much as I had avoided those of the last man and merely nod in response to his question. I feel stupid; in my skin, I feel reasonably tall and strong, but in my mind…

I can't remember…

My strength…Can I use it? Could I use it to protect myself?

I'm still shivering; my spine vibrates with what may as well have been electricity that is constantly flowing through it. No matter how much I try to control it, this feeling – this horrible, uncomfortable feeling that I think I've forced upon myself – I'm unsuccessful.

But, it seems I am far too proud – going how far back, I wonder? – to remain so timid; I make a point to meet the newcomer's eyes. Dark, brown abyss meets me, and I suddenly feel my resolve weaken and the floor steals my gaze once more.

"I'm sorry about him," he says, somewhat empathetically. "I don't think they understand quite what you've been through." He pulled up a chair for himself and sat opposite me.

My heart shudders in my chest; hope pounds in my temples as I tentatively ask, "So…I know you?"

He smiles at me, just a little. "You're very important to me," he says.

I suddenly notice that I've met his eyes once more. "What's your name?" I ask him.

His smile stays the same but his eyes turn sad, and he says, "I'm hoping that one day, you'll be able to remember me by yourself."

I sigh. The hope has turned to a simple headache as I call upon memories that simply refuse to surface.

The newcomer interlocks his fingers. "What do you remember?"

I open my mouth, but nothing emerges; it takes several attempts before I manage a single word. "Nothing."

He closes his eyes and nods, leaning forward a little. "You don't know where you are?"

"No."

"How you came to be here?"

"No?"

"You can't remember any of your family or…" he pauses for a second. "..friends?"

Friends, family? Again, I heave a sigh. "Nothing." Regret fills my voice regardless of how I try to remove it – surely I owed it to the people I loved to remember them? My throat is full. "Can you tell me?"

He thinks for a moment. "Perhaps it would be better to wait until tomorrow," he says. "You've had a lot to take in." I open my mouth – no, it would be better for me to start remembering things _now_ – but he's too quick for me. "A night of rest would do you good." He stands up and returns his chair before moving to the door.

He beckons. "I'll show you to your quarters if you'd like – its far better accommodation, I daresay."

I stand and follow him into the corridor. I try to ignore the lights that cast shadows around the hall, which seem a thousand times too large for simply the two of us. The corridor is otherwise deserted. Several turns later, we come to a halt. We step inside a smaller room, much the same as the corridor but a dead end. Unsure of where we can go next, I look at the floor. The restricted space makes me a little nervous. The man presses several buttons and, with a lurch of my stomach, we've moved. My head snaps up to see what's happening, but it seems I'm too late.

We enter onto almost identical corridors and hallways and I need a second to regain my balance. I turn and look back into the room with awe. "What was that?" I ask, a little breathless.

"That," explains the man, "was the…elevator." He pronounces the word 'elevator' carefully.

Then, we're on our way again.

Several more turns later and we stop once more.

"These are your quarters," says the man. "I'll leave you here and post an attendant outside." A tall, burly figure appears but surely he's not an attendant? I scan him quickly – is that a… gun?

The first man notices where I'm looking and laughs. "I'm afraid we have a history of intruders here," he explains. "All guests must be protected."

I force the corners of my mouth to turn upwards slightly in an attempt to return his humour, and maybe it's just the corridor, but his words ring emptily.

With a swish of his coat, the man bids me goodnight and begins to walk away.

"You'll tell me everything tomorrow?" I stumble on the spot, unsure whether to follow him. He merely nods at me.

He knows me, what I've forgotten! He can tell me – and I'm letting him walk away!

As he disappears from view, so do my ideas of finding answers to the millions of questions that are on the tip of my tongue. My memories… what am I without them? This I ask myself as the door closes behind me.

I suppose the room is comfortable. There's a mirror in the corner, a bed with a mountainous pile of pillows and a table laden with fruit, cheese and bread. My stomach twinges in hunger, but I avoid the food. Instead, I wander idly; there's the same emptiness here as there was the corridor.

In my mind, in this place… In my heart. Hollow.

A moment of cold surprise grabs me; there's an extra figure in the room. It's a moment before I realise that it's only my reflection in a mirror. I move closer to look at myself. Short, blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin.

And wearing a… dress… thing. It's the same colour as my eyes, with the tiniest bit of silver threads woven into the fabric that glitter, laugh, in the flickering light. The bodice fits me snugly and the long sleeves creep down my arms before flaring just a little at the ends. The skirt billows down to the floor until just below my ankles where it lightly skims the floor.

For how long I stare at the dress in the mirror, I'm not sure. And then, as though the idea were a sudden light in the darkness, I realise something.

I hate it.

I unexplainably, unfoundedly, irrevocably hate it. From its impractical (and, quite frankly, more revealing than I'd like) upper to the very bottom that makes me feel as though a single misplaced step might trip me up, I hate it.

Setting my jaw in determination, I force myself to look away from the mirror. I itch uncomfortably in my skin – where did this hate, such a strong, unreasonable feeling, come from? Shouldn't I know the basis of a feeling like that? I pull at my hair, hoping that it might help my memories return, but it does nothing except instigate a headache.

I feel dirty. I feel like a cheat. I'm feeling something that's so strong, but it means nothing to me. It's like breathing, or my heartbeat – I don't need to think about them, they just come naturally. A feeling like hate isn't meant to be like that. It needs to have a reason - yet another thing I baselessly believe.

But without my memories, it doesn't.

I sigh and look at the bed. "_Get some rest,_" Mister Man-Whose-Name-I'm-Supposed-to-Remember had said, but I don't want to lie down. Awaiting me in sleep is emptiness, are all the things I can't remember. And then there's the guard waiting outside...Right now, he scares me more than anybody who could break in.

Alone in this place with a strange man outside and I don't know, well, anything… Now _that_, the feeling of susceptibility and defenselessness…_that_ I hate.

I sit at the table, but I don't touch the food. Somehow the fear of the emptiness I'll find in sleep has filled the spaces that should have been filled by food. By sitting here I hope that I might keep some night-long vigil to protect myself with strength that may or may not actually exist; I don't want to sleep, but I'm feeling tired – unbelievably tired. Soon I feel my eyelids drooping closed and I lean forward onto the table, using my arms to pillow my head.

It's not long after that, despite my reluctance, sleep claims me.

* * *

::Authors notes::

A big shout-out and thanks goes to awesome beta drey'auc475, who managed to find time to edit for me while being extremely busy! n.n

Also, the title is the height of horrible, so any suggestions would be great.

Thanks for reading, and have a really nice day :D


	2. Chapter 2

_The lights are on, but it is perfectly silent in the lab. Jack takes care to wander in silently, his hands innocently in his pockets and a smug smile on his face. He glances from the computer screen that displays a "test in progress – please wait" sign to Sam, sleeping with her head on her arms. He shakes his head – no doubt she's worked all night and then fallen asleep the moment she initiated the test. _

_The screen changes – "Successful" it flashes in green. _

"_I think it's just about time to get up," Jack sings softly to himself. Mischievously, he picks up a device – no doubt a delicate, breakable, important device – and turns it over in his hands. Then, in a louder voice, he says, "Ooh, I wonder what this doohickey does?"_

_Sam practically falls off her chair, only just managing to catch herself. Embarrassed, she rubs her eyes and runs a hand through her hair. "Good morning, sir," she says._

"_I thought I _told_ you," he says, not sounding unlike a father to his daughter after she's stayed out too late on a school night, "to get some rest."_

_Her face turns a darker shade of red as she averts her eyes. "Sorry, sir," she apologises._

Chapter Two

I notice in a semiconscious daze that two things are different. The first, a strange, electric feeling I didn't realise was missing has returned and is pulsing away in my veins. The second is that somebody's speaking to me. The next thing that goes through my mind is this: I hope they don't expect anything too intelligent from me and –

_Who the hell are they?_

I sit up abruptly; something clatters, doing nothing but contribute to my being startled. Eyes bleary, I look around in a panic. The man I met yesterday stands to my right, his arms folded and a small smile touching his lips. Embarrassed, I try to act calm and collected. "Good morning," I say.

He chuckles quietly to himself. "I'm sure the bed would have been much more comfortable," he says.

My heart still pounding with fright, I stumble to my feet a little more shakily than I would have liked. "Sorry, sir," I say automatically.

'Sorry sir'? It rolls off my tongue with such ease. Perhaps it means something? I look to the man – whose name, I realise, I still don't know – but those words don't seem to mean anything special to him. Why should they, I suppose? They're just two little words, after all.

Maybe two words mean more than I think they do.

He's speaking to me again, but I don't realise until he's halfway through his sentence. "..around here. Shall we?" He's moving towards the door; it probably means that I should probably follow him, so I do.

"Kitchens," the man says simply as we pass by a door.

We proceed further, then turn a corner. "Spare quarters." He indicates to three separate doors.

"Storage." He points. "Research and development."

I frown. "Research and development?" I ask. "What kinds of things are you researching?" Even though I know any answer to my question would go straight over my head, I'm intrigued.

"Ah, yes," the man says, nodding knowingly. "You used to be quite interested in research and development."

I want to suggest that we could go inside and see if anything jogs my memory, but we're already moving on. "Was I?" I want to know.

"Yes, quite," comes the short reply.

Although I'm sure we haven't seen this entire floor (there's still many a corridor we have passed unexplored), we enter a room – spectacularly ordinary, furnished with absolutely nothing, let alone something that might be of interest to show me.

I'm confused, but the man stands near a panel on the wall as though the room's being empty is somewhat important.

"What is this place?" I say, still standing in the doorway.

He chuckles. "The…" He pauses – for dramatic effect? Somehow it seems he too is having trouble remembering. "..elevator." He inclines his head towards the circle that is drawn on the floor. Hesitating only slightly, I step into it. Stupidity bears down on my pride as I stand in the middle of nowhere with my hands hanging limply at my sides and looking more than a little out of place. Regardless of how I feel or look, the man doesn't seem to notice and he enters a combination of symbols on the panel and joins me in the circle. My breaths speed up to match the beating of my heart as we are caught in a light that appears from apparently nowhere; four or five metal rings sweep down and there's a tingle in every particle in my existence as a bright light envelopes my vision. There's another tingle, and my vision returns to normal.

I can feel my mouth hanging open. I'd experienced that before, right after I'd woken up, but this time I'm a little more lucid and fully aware of everything (or so I'd like to think) around me.

Searching for words to describe this is futile, but luckily I have no need for them. "Never mind about them," the man says as he steps out. "They're quite the commonplace accessory, these days. We tend to refer to them as 'transportation rings' more than 'elevators', as well."

I would have babbled to him in awe that something as interesting as these 'transportation rings' could ever be considered commonplace and I would love to know how it worked, but I'm already being left behind. He spares me a glance to make sure I follow on what I've gathered to be the continuation of a tour. We proceed around the first bend and I can't help but notice that the scene I'm presented with so closely resembles that of the floor we just left that had I not already known they were different, I would not have known at all.

Along with its identical layout, one particular other likeness reaches out and stabs me in the eye. Like the other corridor – no, like _every other_ corridor – this one is outstandingly void of people. The man's pointing around and explaining things to me, but I hear none of them through my thoughts. There may have well been just the two of us here, for emptiness reigns supreme and is protected by silence. Is the whole place like this? Could it be that this is perfectly normal, to be alone here? I would hardly know what 'normal' was even if it were labeled with a sign big enough to rival the surface area of my quarters; perhaps this _is_ normal.

I collide softly with the man as he comes to what I suspect was gradual-made-sudden stop, made so only by my inattentiveness. Heartily embarrassed, I apologise profusely. He smiles thinly in dismissal and enters a room – the reason we stopped.

The surroundings are as familiar as anything I remember has ever been - distantly. A long box. Shelves. Bottles of liquids mounted on the walls. However, the feature that takes me with the most force is the chair sitting in the middle of the room.

We're in the room I first woke up in.

Seeing me shrink just slightly, the man places a hand on my arm. "I know this probably isn't the place you really want to be right now," he says, "but this device is capable of accessing memories." I look from the chair over his shoulder to the panel. It is equipped with a vast number of buttons and levers that give off an air of being makeshift and home-made; upon the chair opposite it sits some sort of helmet that converges with a mass of electrical cables; neither the panel nor the helmet instills me with much confidence.

But the chance to have my memories returned to me… He could have suggested that falling from the highest point of the world to the lowest would recall my memories and I'd still be filled with the same hope that I am at this very moment. "It can?" My breath has been stolen by what might be possible and my words are hardly audible.

The man nods. "It could be that your memories are simply suppressed. If that's the case…" He doesn't need to finish, waving a hand at the device.

"Let's try it!" I exclaim, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than I expected.

I take a seat in the chair and the man fixes the device to my head. Its metal frame is cold against my skin, not to mention heavy. I lean into the chair to relieve the new pressure placed on my neck.

The man takes his place behind the console and begins to adjust the settings, pushing buttons and turning knobs with a practiced hand. I wait in silence; it's several minutes at least before he lifts his head, a finger poised over a particularly large and red button.

"Are you ready?" he asks. I suddenly feel compelled to sit up straight and I do so, my confidence in this procedure encouraged by the optimism that bubbles excitedly inside. Swallowing hard, I nod, my fingers closing tightly around the arms of the chair. Despite my fear, I can't prevent the smile that appears on my lips.

To remember once more!

The man returns the smile, his managing to be wider than mine. He pushes the button and I hear the machine power up, surges of energy running through the device towards the apparatus on my head. I clench my teeth. Optimism aside, I'm scared. I look to the man for reassurance – this _will _return my memories, won't it? Please, may it return me who I was…

"The access of memories can sometimes be quite painful," says the man abruptly, "but the process is quick and the level of pain differs from person to person."

_What?_

Nobody said anything about being painful. I open my mouth, but words fail me as I feel a charge running through my head. Eyes wide, I watch the man as he looks down at the console once more to make adjustments to the device. He can't see me – maybe I don't need my memories this much anymore!

_Stop! _I want to say – but speech is impossible through the pain I'm already starting to feel.

_My head…!_

A jolt of electricity rams into my skull; a cry tears from my throat with the razor sharp pain that accompanies it – but one isn't enough and I try to scream again; this one is trapped before reaching my lips. The breath is robbed from my lungs and I can't breathe; the pain is getting worse blackness is clutching at the edges of my vision.

Finally, my fingers loosen around the arms of the chair as I am physically unable to fight the unable to fight the pain any longer. In the long moments before the pitch dark void swallows me, I have no other choice but to allow the white hot fire course through my brain unhindered – after that, there is nothing.

* * *

Well, there's chapter two! Thanks for reading. All feedback is welcome.

See you next time ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

"_Alright, Carter." Jack pulls on his cap and accepts his P-90 from the airman standing by. "It looks like it's just you and me on this one."_

_Sam does much the same. "Well, Daniel's helping catalogue ruins on P5X-142 and Teal'c is at a meeting of the rebel Jaffa, so…"_

"_So, I'm left wondering why we are still going on this little soil-collecting mission." The Stargate_ _kawooshes into activation and gurgles as they wait for General Hammond's approval._

"_Because, try as I might, I could not convince General Hammond that I needed a whole team to help me contain my excitement at what we might learn from this mineral survey," Sam replies pertly. The general's voice comes from the control room and they begin up the ramp. She hides a smile at the groan that comes from Jack, the one that usually accompanies her enthusiasm over geek-y, scientific-y stuff._

"_Oh, come on, sir," says Sam, trying to lighten her commanding officer's mood slightly. "Surely I'm not such bad company that you can't be stuck alone with me on a deserted planet for a few hours?"_

_Denseness drops like a stone on the atmosphere and they suddenly lapse into silence. Awkwardness descends at the unintentional connotations that might accompany such a phrase, and the light from the blue ripples dances over their faces for a few moments._

_Jack clears his throat in attempt to disperse the uncomfortable atmosphere. "Ahem. Well. Shall we go then?"_

Chapter Three

I recognize the mountainous pile of pillows in my quarters when I next become lucid. I ache all over and I find myself unable to move, which makes me tense with fear and hurt more. My breathing is quick and painful in my chest. My eyeballs are the extent of movement capability; I wrench them from side to side in attempt to fully assess my surroundings.

I'm alone – I'm not quite sure whether I should be thankful or not at that fact. As the initial pain of waking starts to fade just a little, decide that it's best to be undecided and instead try to slow my breathing and release the stiffness in my shoulders. These efforts rob me of the energy to consider getting up, so I lie here purposefully staring hard at the high ceiling and just _hoping_ that I'm safe here.

What happened? Even if I'm physically unable to move, my brain darts from one thought another, trying to make sense of everything. Ah! Yes. Before, I was…

All pain forgotten, I sit bolt upright. My memories! That man took me to the machine that was going to give me my memories back! My hands fly to my head; I begin to pat my hair as though I would be able to find my memories lurking in my hair on the surface. "I don't remember anything," I croak to myself, my breathing quickening once more and my patting becoming more frantic. "I don't remember anything!" I roll over the pillows and onto the floor, ignoring the cold, hard floor beneath my feet. I stagger over to the mirror, leaning heavily on the dresser and eying the person that stares back at me expectantly.

There's nothing new there! Looking back at me is the same person, the same stupid person, who can't even remember why they hate this dress.

"It didn't work," I say aloud as I come to a grim realization.

It didn't work. I can feel the hole in my chest hopefulness left after it was crushed into nothing. My knees crumble and I lower myself to the floor. Hopeless. Helpless. The pain coursing through my limbs has returned. I can feel everything throbbing with each beat of my heart. But even in my pain I am undecided – is it better to feel the pain the machine having not brought my memories back? Or would it have been worse to feel fine and be simply left deflated with nothing – not even pain – to fill the space left by the hope I'd lost? I groan as I roll onto one side. Would this aching I feel all over have been worth it even if I had regained my memories? I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter now.

There must be something I can do! Anything! Something _somewhere_ must be able to help me remember. But what am I doing? I'm lying on the floor. I can't bring myself to get up, not yet. I should go and find that man. Does he think the procedure worked? Does he know the machine didn't work, and he's making adjustments?

I lie here, and time is passing. I don't know how much. It just is.

*

I slept for a while, there on the floor. Now, I pull myself up to sit in a chair. I stare at nothing in particular, just letting my idle, meaningless thoughts form themselves.

I need to do something – run tests, search for clues, try that machine again. Try anything!

I need to remember.

*

I go to the door and open it slowly. Outside is the guard. He hasn't seen me. He's tall and solid built. I want to ask if I can speak to _that man_ but I don't. I close the door and sigh, safely back inside.

*

I pace back and forth. The sound of my shoes makes me feel like it's not just empty old me in here. I need to speak with that man. That man who knows me.

*

I don't know how long I've been alone here. It can't have been too long…

*

I wake, but I keep my eyes firmly closed. There's somebody here. Against my will, I tense – will this alert them to the fact that I know they're there? I crack an eye open.

"Ah, you're awake," says the voice of the man. "Don't worry. It's just me."

I relax a little – but not much. It seems he notices this. I sit up. He looks at the ground, avoiding my eyes.

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry that the machine didn't work," he apologises. "I didn't realise you would feel such terrible…"

I cut him off. "Don't worry about it," I say. "I wanted to do it."

He wanders back and forth in front of the door several times, as though he's contemplating something. "I'm also sorry that I haven't come and seen you for the last week." A week? Had it really been that long? "I couldn't face you. Not after what you went through." He comes across as strange – are all people so straightforward after they've spent a week not even being able to look at you?

I shake my head. "No, it's okay. It doesn't matter." I hope he can't hear the disappointment in my voice. I try to find something positive. "You could always…_tell me_ about myself?"

The man picks something up off the table and begins to fiddle with it. "I'm in the process of making modifications to the device," he says. "In the meantime, I think it would be best if you tried to remember on your own."

"Why?" I ask immediately, the word jumping to my lips without my brain's intervention.

"If I simply tell you, the correct portions of your brain that allow you to remember will not be activated," he tells me firmly. "Nothing I tell you will help you to remember on your own."

Desperation shows in my voice. "Please? I've been here a week and I can't even remember my own name!"

"I can't tell you."

"Just tell me my name!"

"No."

"Just tell me!"

There's a growl and a crash; I jump, blood ringing in my ears with terror. I stare in horror at the man, who has just thrown the object he was fiddling with at the wall. It lies shattered, its pieces scattered over the floor. My eyes are wide and all words abruptly cease coming to my mind. I'm frozen to where I sit. He seems almost as stiff.

He turns away from me, scratching the back of his head. I'm still too scared to move.

"How would you fancy a walk outside?" the man asks, a false sense of optimism in his tone, as though he's trying to completely forget about his outburst.

I'm too shocked to give him anything but one answer; I'm already pulling on my shoes. "Okay."

*

It's twilight outside. The sky is orange, the horizon kissed with pink and just the subtlest tinges of blue in between. The breeze is soft and it whips through my hair and billows through my dress. The trees and bushes are a vibrant shade of green and run along a neatly cut path through the middle. I survey my surroundings from atop the transportation ring platform.

"It's beautiful," I say. The man nods and steps off the platform. I follow suit.

"Does it help you remember anything?" he asks, but even as the question leaves his lips I can tell that the gentle tone is forced; I can't forget what happened inside so easily.

"No," I say with as much strength in my voice as I dare.

We wander silently a ways down the path in silence. My legs move on autopilot –what that phrase exactly means, I don't remember – while I absorb the outside. I suddenly feel an inclination to look over my shoulder: we've gone so far now that I can no longer see the ring platform. We come to a stop, just looking around from where we are.

It's then when I spot an object up ahead.

I frown, beginning to move towards it. "What's that?" I ask, peering intently in the direction of the object. It's large, round and grey and before it stands some sort of pedestal with a large orange crystal on it. Symbols are engraved on the pedestal; matching symbols are engraved on the round object. I gasp in awe – it's amazing.

"Oh, that." Does the man sound slightly panicked? I listen again and his voice is normal. I decide that it was my imagination. "This is an important part of culture here. It's a religious monument, meant to honour the sky Gods."

My awe deflates – surely something so grand is more than a mere religious monument?

Hm.

I've seen it before, maybe.

I think.

In my dreams?

"Does it have anything to do with…water?" I ask, in a daze. "Did I have much to do with it, before I lost my memories?"

"Only loosely," comes the reply, his tone hard and closed. "We should head back. It's getting dark."

It was getting dark – I could hardly see my hand in front of my face – but I hadn't noticed before. "Hm," I respond, and follow him back to the transportation rings. He escorts me to my room; without the cool breeze and beautiful view, all that's left is awkward silence. He leaves me at the door. I watch him go to leave.

"Serrin," he says suddenly.

I frown. "What?" I say softly.

"Your name," he says, "is Serrin."

Surprise takes me as I comprehend what he's just told me – something he so strongly wanted not to tell me. But a bigger surprise takes even me as words form themselves on my lips. "That's not my name." As soon as my lips close again, I'm flabbergasted and frozen: it's another thing today I've said without meaning to, and I certainly don't want a repeat of earlier. As I regain control of my limbs, or more importantly my jaw, I resign myself – I may as well finish what I've started.

"Serrin." I repeat the name slowly; it sits strangely in my throat. "That's not my name."

He turns to face me slowly, a small smile on his face. I've seen it several times before, but this time it has a sour air to it and I'm abruptly aware of its unauthentic nature. "Of course it's your name," he says, his voice too sweet to be natural. "Don't you believe me?" There's this niggling sensation of guilt in my stomach. I've offended him, it seems.

And so he should be, I suppose. He's been doing his best to help me and I practically accuse him of lying. Why should he lie? I can see no motive. No, he wouldn't lie…would he?

Like my name, these thoughts don't flow in my mind. I need to make an effort to think them.

Perhaps he should have used different words for his retort to my unconscious suggestion. Before, even as I contradicted him, I would have never thought of it as _believing_ him, as _believing_ what he told me; I wasn't calling into question my trust in him.

But now it feels different. I _am_ calling into question my trust in him. And I feel that it's strangely…founded.

It's true, though. 'Serrin' somehow doesn't suit me. It's like I'm the cat called mouse, or the colour blue called yellow – it simply doesn't fit. No matter how many times it runs past my mind's eye, I can't make it sound right.

I can find no argument to give me reason to press the topic. I need more than just this unfamiliar feeling. "I believe you," I say finally, when I realise that he's been waiting for me to reply. Then, more to myself than to him, I test it out. "Serrin…"

I'm not sure how long it is before I notice I'm alone once again.

* * *

: Author note :

I apologise for the wait - my computer (which I just bought a new harddrive for *growls at computer*) needed to be formatted and I had to re-write a bit...

Anyway! Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

_At first, Sam thinks the beeping sound dragging her back into consciousness is her alarm clock. However, upon further aural investigation – which she carries out without once opening her eyes – she realises that the sound is not half as erratic as that of her alarm. No, this one is comparatively slow and even, and as she lies there, she breathes in synch to it. _

_An eye slides open. Small red peaks are journeying across a black screen: a heart rate monitor. Objects begin to blur their way into focus: beds, various types of medical equipment – and a figure sitting in a chair. _

"_Mornin' Dorothy," says Jack, putting his yoyo aside. "Nice to finally see you awake."_

_She moves to try and sit up; that simple action is enough to make her head feel as though it might explode. "Yeah, I'm not so sure," Sam says, resigning to lie back once more._

"_In pain?"_

_She nods. "Yes, sir."_

_Jack calls over one of the nurses, who adds more painkillers to Sam's IV. "That Jaffa did get you pretty good."_

_She groans at the memory. "That'll teach us to get in the middle of a Goa'uld skirmish. Let me guess. It was one of Yu's."_

_She can feel a bad joke coming on; she isn't disappointed. "Nope, not one of mine." She smiles anyway, her eyes closing as Jack continues. "No, actually, it was one of Ba'al's."_

"_Why did he have to teach them such good aim?" she said sleepily, the meds taking effect quickly._

"'_Cause Ba'al's just a bastard." Jack makes a point to reply softly; her breathing is already evening out. He hesitates a second, then tentatively takes her hand in his own. "It's good to have you back," he says, even more quietly._

_She hasn't the energy to open her eyes. "Thank you, sir," she replies, and she's asleep._

**Chapter Four**

I think I miss my friends and family. I suppose I do. Having nothing but the air for company has watered my seeds of complete and utter loneliness with feelings of uselessness and fed it sunshine with the emptiness that I can't shake. And then, out of the blue, I realise that I don't miss them at all. That would be impossible. I don't know them well enough to miss any of them. I can't even conjure their images in my conscious mind. The most I could ever feel for them is sadness at the hollow that's left as I'm unable to properly mourn their vacancy.

Suddenly, I force a smile and jump to my feet – I don't think it's the first time I've realised that being alone and being bored don't sit well together, especially if you're me.

Enough lying in bed feeling sorry for myself! I can't remember, and that's the way it is right now! If I can't remember, then I want to see something new and different; I want to discover something that makes my brain work harder than just the idle ticking of emotions and futile searches for lost memories! I want to _make_ something for me to remember!

But, here I am, still, in this tiny room. Nothing new or exciting or different. Just the same old, same old.

I flop back onto the bed: I've not even made it to the door and already I'm back where I started. There's the whole outside-of-this-room out there for me to explore and I'm hanging about in here? What could I possibly be waiting for?

And then I remember the guard still standing outside.

Ah.

I'm not going anywhere.

Unless…Perhaps – could I convince the guard to let me out to explore by myself? I'm sure I'd not be in any danger – I mean, the only people I've ever seen in these corridors are the guard and the man! Or maybe I could coax him to come with me? If he's there to protect me, then maybe he'd oblige.

I call to mind his bulging muscles and his face that may as well have been a mask of concrete: cold, hard and not likely to change anytime soon without my proverbially having to break it. Coaxing, convincing? Yeah, right. Those ideas, I quickly dismiss.

But perhaps if he were never to know that I was gone…Now _that_ would be the way to do it.

As if the guard could somehow hear my non-existent footsteps, I creep toward the door. There's no handle or such mechanism; there is, however, a panel to the left of the door with six symbols, like the one for the transportation rings. As I raise my hand to enter the combination, I realise that I don't even know the sequence.

The man used one to activate the rings...Perhaps that one would work? The symbols rise to the top of my mind easily and I enter them. Everything remains still.

I sigh in annoyance. My hand hovers in mid air for a second before I punch in a different set of symbols. I don't expect the door to open, and it doesn't. I shrug to myself and try another; again, with no result. I try another. And another. After the last attempt, I have to laugh at myself - how many combinations was it possible to have? A million? A million more? I abandon this avenue.

Squinting, I inspect the edges of the panel, wedging my fingers in the crack between it and the wall. My muscles shake with the stress, but with a _pop_ the panel comes free and swings down on its hinges. Revealed is a mass of different coloured crystals, arranged seemingly haphazard within the panel. I can feel the blood pulsing in my temples as I try to figure out exactly what I'm seeing and how I could use it to fulfil my objective. My fingers independently begin to rearrange the crystals. Occasionally, they glow at my touch which I take to be a good sign; when they don't, I reconsider my approach.

Why I'm not sure, but I find a smile on my lips and I'm surprisingly... happy. A jumble of thoughts and ideas in my head fight for dominance - could this work? Would this fail? What would happen if I did this? How could I counter this problem? But in my confusion, I've never been more content: no longer are thoughts simply flowing through my head. Instead, they're meeting lumps and bumps, hiccupping every now and then I have to force to the surface a solution to smooth the neural pathways over again, and that makes me feel _better_. I have to force the pieces of the puzzle together to understand them. Waves of accomplishment, excitement and fulfilment wash over me and they fuel my greedy desire to experience them time and time again.

If I'm not mistaken, this last adjustment should open the door. Biting my lower lip in anticipation, I reach forward to activate it.

I haven't touched anything, but the door slides open. I jump back, surprised. The man stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised and looking accusingly at me. I grasp my hands together, knowing just how guilty I look. "Hello," I say stupidly.

The man doesn't greet me. "Curious this morning, are we?" he says instead. I smile thinly and nod.

He gives me this _look_; I can't quite decipher it. Worry? Annoyance? Pride? It comes and goes so quickly, but I stiffen my shoulders and edge away from it slightly. It's then that I realise...Why am I even feeling guilty? The door was locked, and I wanted to leave. I was perfectly within my rights to do that, wasn't I? It's not as though I'm a prisoner. Surely, all I needed to do to take a look around outside and satisfy my thirst for knowledge is ask? I glance at the man, then think of the guard.

Perhaps not.

"Yes," I say finally, willing my voice to sound normal. It does so with surprising ease. "I might just go and take a look around, if you don't mind," I say, trying to sound assertive.

He bars my way. "Ah, I would prefer you didn't," he says

"Why?" I ask, my eyes widening innocently. I'm trying my best not to let my boredom-fuelled irritation show.

"There is still the possibility of infiltration by intruders," he replies, but his answer is quick as though it's just an excuse.

The will to control my tone evaporates; I roll my eyes and gesture to the corridor beyond the man. "But there is _nobody. Out. There._"

"No." His reply is firm and commanding. "You must stay here."

"Please? Just for a few minutes. A few minutes!"

"I am trying to protect you! Cannot you see that?"

"From what?" I cry, exasperated. "From intruders or from my memories?"

I can barely believe those words just came out of my mouth. I find myself suddenly turning away, without remembering making such a decision, and a hot, smarting feeling coming to my cheek.

"Because I command it!" the man roars back at me. I step back: his anger is like an explosion. The room goes deathly silent; I warily eye the man for his next move. His jaw his set hard and so are his eyes. His arms are pinned at his sides and his fingers are curled into fists.

"I do apologise," he says, approaching me – it doesn't sound like he apologises at all. His voice may as well be rubbed with grease. "I understand how difficult this must be for you." I nod absently, averting my eyes. "But I have no desire to see you hurt."

He puts a hand to my chin and forces me to look at him. I tense – when did he move this close? I would sooner prefer to be this close to a lion; I can no longer tell if it's my embarrassment making my face feel so warm or the heat from his proximity. His hands move to my upper arms, and I find myself stiffly and subtly trying to pull away. My skin crawls with the contact as though I don't belong here, with him so close; it's as though I'd be more content in a pit in hell.

"Um..." I can feel his breath on my face. I want to ask him what he's doing, but the words get lost on the way through my throat. My knees shake – but not as though they're about to give in, rather with the unused adrenaline that tries to make me run for my life. Oh, my God. His lips are getting closer to mine...I can't see anything else...

"Where are all my friends and family?" I ask suddenly, jerking away just a little. Just as I had suspected – hoped – this topic seems to break his little moment and I sigh inwardly of relief. He puts some distance between us, not quite enough for my comfort but better. I relax slightly.

"There's nobody," he says abruptly, and I'm a little taken aback. "You've no family, no friends. Just me."

And there it is again, like he'd not just tried to kiss me. He's giving me excuses, rehearsed lines. Old words repeated like a broken record.

_I don't believe him._

"What?" I ask in a small voice, frowning. "But you said I did."

He lets go of my arms, a hardness in his eyes. "I said no such thing," he says harshly. "You don't."

"There has to be..." I say, shaking my head. "I can..."

"How would you know?" he spits all of a sudden, his voice like acid. "You don't remember!" There's a moment of silence and my face goes numb in fearful anticipation. His eyes widen, fury emanating from him like an inferno gives off heat. "You _do_ remember?"

I shake my head, panicked: why did I have to pick that moment not to say anything? "No, I don't!" The words stumble from my lips and I could kick myself at how guilty I sound. He stare is intense, willing me, trying to _force_ me to change my answer. "Really!" I press, knowing that I'm becoming less and less believable by the minute. "I don't remember!"But no matter how much my jumbled words spew from my lips, my insistence that I _don't_ remember, his jagged resentment builds and grows and burns hotter with each moment.

It all happens quick as a flash. One minute, I'm on my own two feet; the next, I'm shuddering against the wall. The man's fingers have closed around my throat. It's an effort to draw oxygen into my lungs. I can feel the blood rushing in my head.

What's happening? Isn't this the man who's been helping me find my memories? Isn't this the man who understands how I feel? Isn't he my lifeboat, the only thing keeping me from being lost in nothingness? Forget his anger and his insincerity – hasn't he been with me from the start?

"Do you remember who I am?" he asks, slowly, deadly. I don't know...but is that fear I see in his eyes? Why is he scared that I'll remember who _he_ is? "If you've regained your memories, you'll know." His grip tightens on my throat and his eyes capture mine. It's like he's sifting through my brain, weeding out the lies and hurling everything I remember into the spotlight to be examined. "What is my name?"

"I don't know your name; I don't remember! I swear!" It comes out as a hoarse whisper. I claw at his hand weakly.

It feels like minutes before he decides I'm telling the truth and he finally lets me go. I gasp for air, rubbing my bruised throat. As if that weren't enough, there's an ear-piercing wail as an alarm begins to blare. He looks to me, then begins to leave.

"So tell me," I croak, taking a step forward. "Your name."

He rolls his eyes at me: I'm wasting his time in what appears to be a crisis. "Ba'al," he throws at me and hurriedly strides from the room.

Ba'al.

Ba'al.

Ba'al?

No. That means nothing to me.

Nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam sits a small distance away from the rest of SG-1, not wanting to disturb them. Usually, she has no problems sleeping offworld, but tonight her brain simply refuses to be still – without substantial reason, no less. She's thinking the smallest, most insignificant of thoughts, but they are relentless. She sighs in the low light. _

_Tired with staring at the one section of forest, she looks around – and gasps in fright, jumping as she finds a figure silently watching her._

"_I didn't scare you, did I, Carter?"Jack asks, teasing. She smiles in response. "Can't sleep?" _

"_Not scared," Sam says. "I just didn't expect you to be there."_

_He waits for an answer to his second question, but it never comes; he doesn't call her on it, though. Instead, he seats himself on the log beside her and there they stay until dawn. _

Chapter Five

I have to get out of here. Rubbing my bruised throat, I pace back and forth, breathing quickly, eyes prickling.

I never thought...Why would Ba'al...? How could he...?

I have to get out of here.

Alarms are still blaring. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. I press my ear to the door. Footsteps, guards running. I want to see the chaos outside – I've never seen more than two people in the corridor.

Hold on...

Shouting and more footsteps. These sound closer than the others, and then quickly grow faint.

Suddenly, there's silence. Complete silence.

Could the guard outside my room be gone, called to duty somewhere else?

I don't care if he is or not – I have to get out of here. I press the last crystal inside the panel.

Thankfully, miraculously, wonderfully, the door opens. With a breath of relief, I pick up the skirt of my dress from dragging along the floor and I'm out.

I peer around each of the corners I come to, feeling all too noticeable in my dress that makes swishing noises as I walk. But, despite the kerfuffle earlier, there's nobody around here but me. There's no harm being on the safe side, though.

I can't begin to describe the levity being out of that room makes me feel: perhaps it's not so much the exploring but the fact that I'm not _supposed _to be here; I'm disobeying Ba'al. There's so much of this place that he's kept from me as he locked me in that awful place. Anywhere we ever went, there were no scenic detours, no looking for the sake of seeing. It's so much bigger than the few corridors and rooms I had been forced to believe my world was.

In the last few minutes, I've seen things that I never would have thought could be here: engineering rooms, rooms full of scrolls, armouries...I could spend hours in each one of them, but my adrenaline-fuelled anger is still nearly pouring out of my ears and I find myself unable to concentrate on anything for long.

Besides, I'm not supposed to be here at all.

But then, where am I supposed to be? This is the only place I know, the only place I've ever known. Maybe stepping into the unknown would be better than here, but I don't know. For the moment, I resign to look around inside – I'm not brave enough to get outside, turn tail and run, never to look back.

I not-so-tentatively peer around the next corner. I've grown used to the fact that there was always going to be nobody waiting for me, so I've become slightly looser with my checking procedures.

I am ashamed to say just how much the presence of several figures around the corner scares me.

Like a startled rabbit, I throw myself back into the safe arms of the corner. It takes a second for me to get a rein on my composure: that was close!

I'm too jumpy to look at them just yet but I can hear their whispers, if I strain hard enough. I listen carefully. There are three of them, all men.

"Alright, Daniel, which way do we go?" There's impatience in this voice.

"Erm...this way, I think, Jack," comes the second voice, hurried and a little enthusiastic.

"Do you not know for certain, Daniel Jackson?" This one is different, deep and resonating.

"Well, I don't know for sure where the thing actually is!" The second man sounds irritated.

"Look, you know how I love leisurely donning this black, slinky gear and doing some funky poaching," the first voice says. "But we have a mission here."

I'm interested. With much more care this time, I poke my head around the corner once more. They're still speaking amongst themselves, planning; they haven't seen me.

Only then does it occur to me: they're black-clad, kneeling close to the ground, whispering… and they're carrying weapons. On my first day, when Ba'al posted the guard outside my room, he had said something about intruders. And then, not an hour ago, all the alarms had gone off...

This had to be them.

My first thought after that is to call for the guard, but my mind takes hold of my tongue. I'm not in my room; the guard is not standing right outside. Then there's the fact that I'm doing exactly the same thing that they are: I'm not supposed to be creeping around either. It's not as though I have a burning desire to encounter Ba'al again anytime soon, either. I'd rather brave intruders than have a repeat of our last encounter. But aside from that, there's something else…

I trust them – the intruders. Like my hate of this dress, it was something inexplicable and completely irrational, and yet still I'm as sure about it as the sun will rise. It's simply there – trust.

No. I won't call out.

Curiosity causes me to study them some more. Although they are all dressed in almost identical apparel, they are quite different to one another. The first one that catches my attention is the tallest. He's dark, bald and carries a weapon that I saw stashed on the belt of the guard outside my room, the one that looks like a coiled snake. He seems a lot like his weapon – that he could uncoil and strike at any given moment. He certainly looks strong.

The second one is the shortest. He wears glasses and for some reason they give him an edge of intelligence. The weapon he totes is different from that of the tall man; it's black and rectangular, and he holds it differently to how the other two hold their weapons. It's almost as if it's something new to him, something he'd rather not be in possession of.

The third one…is harder to describe. He wears a black beanie and is looking around the next corner with his weapon raised. He's ahead of the other two and is making hand gestures, so I assume he's in charge. But he seems neither exceptionally strong, like the tall man, nor exceptionally intelligent, like the man with glasses. I squint in attempt to see him clearer but I'm not adventurous enough to try and get closer.

No, this one has something different. There's some kind of intensity in his eyes that goes far beyond that of the other two. It burns like the hottest fire, and yet I can't tell exactly what _it_ is.

Instinctively, I feel I should retract my head. I do so not a moment too soon.

"Did you see something?" asked one of them – the one called 'Daniel', I think.

"We'd best make haste," said another – it was the low tone of the man whose name I had not heard.

"Yeah," agreed the third; by the determination in his voice, I could tell it was the leader – 'Jack'. "The sooner we find her and get out, the better."

Like a soldier called to attention, my brain is suddenly a thousand times more alert. My heart feels so full that it's overflowed into my head, and now there's blood pulsing against my cheeks and my ears as though fighting to be free of its fleshy prison. My mind races. I can barely keep my feet from moving from this position. Uncaring if they see me this time, I stick my head out into the corridor as if that would somehow confirm what I thought he said.

_Her_.

Me, 'her', I wonder?

They've moved on, their boots making next to no sound as they slip around the bend and on their way – to find me? I cannot help but feel excited. If they _are_ looking for me, maybe they can help me remember? And maybe they won't hold me by the throat, either...

There's only one thing I can do – follow them. I look down at this wretched dress, picking it up from around my ankles and willing it with a large chunk of my energy to be silent as I walk (as if that's going to do any good). I stay behind them a ways, to make sure they don't hear me. I continue this for a while; 'Daniel' takes the other two around in a huge circle, only confirming that they haven't a clue where they're going.

Before they talked about finding me (I assume), they talked about finding something else – "that thing". I think I remember all the new corridors I've explored, at least… If they're looking for something, maybe I can help them find it.

No, I tell myself. These people are intruders.

But they're looking for me!

But they have weapons!

... And so did the guard that kept me in my room for days and days.

My internal battle doesn't last very long at all. I can't remember anybody at all, so I'm at no more risk with these people than I am with anybody else... am I?

They've stopped to try and find their way. This is my opportunity! I approach them slowly, step by step, breath by breath.

...It's only after I'm right out in the open I realise that I'm not sure how they'll react if I sneak up on them.

_Hardly the time to think about that now,_ I scold myself as I edge ever closer. As I go to clear my throat, I notice that a sweat has accumulated on my temples and there's a tremor in the hands holding my skirt off the floor. My rational mind laughs at me and my poorly formulated plan.

But in a blink of an eye, there are footsteps approaching, heavy, metallic and dire. The noise is unbelievable: it sounds like a whole troop of men.

'Jack' curses and poises his finger over the trigger of his weapon, as do the other two. I quickly process the sound I'm hearing – there's no way with the number of people approaching that they could escape unscathed.

My heart is racing; my brain is whirring. Think, think, think! Wait! This corridor…

I look back and to my left; I'm correct! There _is_ a storage cupboard there!

Instinct bypasses my brain function. My limbs move automatically. Any fear of the intruders evaporates.

I tear off the panel beside the door and touch the appropriate crystals – now that I've done it once, the solution to the mess of circuits within seems outstandingly simple. The door grates open. I grab the closest intruder by the arm and turn him around, pushing him semi-gently toward the storage cupboard. The others turn to see what is happening.

"In here; move!" I bark at them, and they follow my instructions without question. I slam the panel closed and stow myself inside after them, hiding just inside the door; we don't have time to close it again now. I watch, concealed, as six – no, eight – soldiers pass, paying no attention to the storage cupboard.

For the first time since the footsteps, I breathe and, after waiting a few moments longer for good measure, I hit the panel on the inside to close the door once more. We are safe. Only now do I turn to the intruders.

I'm not quite sure if I'm ready for the greeting I receive.

"Sam!" said 'Daniel' as loudly as was appropriate with us hiding and all, giving me a huge hug. I stumble back a few steps, completely taken aback. I awkwardly raise my hands and pat him on the back and he soon lets go. He's smiling as I face him once more.

But my eyes are wide with shock. I don't know what I should say. I know his name, and for a moment I consider greeting him with it. However, reason catches me before I do something else stupid: using his name just because I've overheard it seems like cheating, since we've not properly met.

My feelings of surprise and awkwardness restrict my use of words and, instead of using any greeting at all, I am reduced to an "uhh…" sound.

But what was that he just said? 'Sam', had it been?

Daniel frowns; he knows something is wrong. "Sam?"

"'Sam'," I say aloud, more to myself than any of them, pensive. Was that my name? I think it through several times; it seems to sit on my shoulders better than 'Serrin' ever did.

Daniel's looking more and more worried by the minute. "Teal'c?" he asks, and I can hear the panic edging into his voice. He's addressing the tall, dark, bald man who steps forward, frowning.

"Major Carter?" he says.

'Major Carter'. Somehow, that seems familiar as well when he says it in his deep, baritone voice. Like Sam, it feels natural.

I look up at him, intrigue sparking in my eyes. This only makes him more confused: if this _is_ actually my name, I'm sure I don't usually look so interested to hear it.

"Do you not remember me, Major Carter?" he asks me.

"I…" I look from one face to another. The expressions on each of them make me want to remember – I want _so badly_ to remember them – but even as I delve into the deepest regions of my conscious mind, all I can find is a blank page. "I'm sorry," I say, my voice coming out as choked as my throat feels. My eyes are burning.

"Come on, Carter," says the final voice. The tone is light and bouncy, but there's too much of it for it to not be forced. "How could you not remember Teal'c?" He comes closer to face me fully.

In here, this 'Jack' doesn't look the same as he did when I watched him from afar. He no longer glows with that intense determination. Instead, he has a gentler, almost endearing expression as though his intensity is just a hat he wears when he's stepping into the proverbial sunlight: he doesn't need it when he's in the shade. He's removed his beanie and his grey hair is sticking up all over the place: somehow I know it's normal.

"I'm sorry." I repeat these words as though my heart is in my tongue – I hope with all my being that they can see that. "I don't recognize you; I hardly know your names."

"Sam, you know us!" presses Daniel. "You have to remember!"

I decide to simply repeat what I had overheard. Maybe then they won't feel so bad. "He called you 'Daniel'," I say, pointing to from Jack to Daniel. "You called him 'Teal'c'" – I point from Jack to Teal'c – "and you were called 'Jack'." I point at Jack.

Jack smiles. It's so small that it's like it's not there, but his eyes…they sparkle with the smile that doesn't reach his lips. "Never to you," he tells me, somewhat sadly.

Pain is shooting through my head like somebody is rhythmically pounding a nail into my skull. My brow furrows; my eyes involuntarily close. There's something here, something I said… that night when I slept with my head on the table and Ba'al woke me…

"_I'm sure the bed would have been much more comfortable," he says. _

_My heart still pounding with fright, I stumble to my feet a little more shakily than I would have liked. "Sorry, sir," I say automatically._

It _had_ been automatic; I still don't know why I said it.

Do I know now?

I look at him for confirmation. "S-sir?" I say.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His enthusiasm at that single word amuses me, although I know it's because he thinks if I remember that, I can remember something else. But there's nothing else in here. Not yet.

Names, names, names. Jack – sir – rattles off these names, these people that I'm supposed to remember but don't. With each shake of my head, my guilt is increased: these are more of my loved ones that I owe to know them by name, but don't. They're familiar, I know I've heard their names before, but that's all they are. Just familiar feelings.

The three of them are becoming just as disappointed as me. Especially Jack. With each name that I floats by me as if it were a jellyfish in the water, his hope deflates. We deteriorate into silence.

I need to break it before we all become too depressed and forget why we're here. I sigh, scratching my empty head. "You said you were here looking for something," I say. "Maybe I can help you find it."

"We found what we were looking for," says Jack, looking at me. "I say we get the hell out of here."

He raises his gun and begins to move around me for the door. He's soon stopped by Daniel.

"Jack!" he says, shaking his head. "We need to find that device and destroy it. We can't let this happen again to anyone else."

Still facing the door, Jack takes a deep breath. He knows Daniel is right, though what they're talking about I'm not quite sure. There's a shudder of fear through my heart – Destroy the device? What if I've offered my help to the wrong people? But it's more difficult to conceal the information than it is to tell them – that feeling of trust reduces my mental walls to rubble.

Another worry soon flutters through me, replacing the last - what if I've offered my help and then I can't find what they're searching for? Will they still have use for me then? I straighten my shoulders a little and set my mouth in determination. The corridors, the corners and the doors run through my mind. Every place I have ever been since I woke up that first time is here, in my head; everything I've seen, likewise.

"What is this device you're looking for?" I want to know.

It's Teal'c that speaks first. Somehow I'm instilled with a feeling of nostalgia as I hear is low, melodic voice for the second time. "It is a device to remove memories," he says, and my heart drops into my stomach. Seeing my shock, he adds, "As yours have been."

Perhaps they expected me to know that my memories had been forcibly taken, because their astonishment rivals mine. I'm speechless as confusion becomes a blur as it tumbles in my head, and it takes a while for it to land on my tongue. "Ba'al said I lost my memories in an accident." They look at each other. They looked appalled that I could be led to think that. He'd lied to me about my name, but that didn't add up to him stealing my memories, did it? He'd yelled at me, thrown things across the room and grabbed me by the throat, but that didn't equate to his putting me in this situation, did it?

I told them as much.

Jack practically growled at the mention of Ba'al's name, but Teal'c silenced him with a look.

Daniel spoke slowly when he finally responded. "It wasn't an accident."

"There's no way..." I say, but I can hear even I'm not convinced as the words emerge from my mouth, and I trail off.

"Yes, he would." Jack pointedly makes his contribution. It's clear he has personal experience.

I'm speechless, but this time not for surprise. I'm trying to find something that wouldn't portray just how unconvinced I am. I can't bring myself to defend him: I want to get out of here.

"Ba'al has lied to you," says Teal'c. "You belong with us, Major Carter, at Stargate Command."

I can't _not_ believe Teal'c. He wouldn't lie – I know he wouldn't.

"Stargate…" I repeat. Ba'al had shown me the Stargate. But… "It's not a decorative religious monument, is it?"

"No." Despite his simple answer, so much is portrayed in this single syllable.

"Right." This solidifies my decision. Hearing nothing as I press my ear to the door, I expose the lock mechanisms and open the door. The soldiers are gone, thankfully. I make sure I cannot be seen from the corridor and turn back to the three... I can hardly call them 'intruders' anymore. I believe them over everything the one who I had, until very recently, considered to be my mentor of sorts. Perhaps I can now call them 'friends'?

Yes, I like that. Friends.

"Now, what does this device look like?"

Teal'c nods slowly, smiling.

Daniel pulls a piece of paper out of one of his vest pockets. It's a sketch of the device.

A frown creases across my face. "I've seen this before." But where?

I close my eyes.

_The man fixes the device to my head. He pushes the button and I hear the machine power up._

_Suddenly, a jolt of electricity rams through my skull; a cry tears from my throat with the razor sharp pain that accompanies it – but one isn't enough and I try to scream again; this one is trapped before reaching my lips. The breath is robbed from my lungs and I can't breathe; the pain is getting worse blackness is clutching at the heels of my vision. _

I shudder violently. Jack and Daniel are at my arms in an instant, but I'm fine. The botched attempt to find my memories is just itself a memory. My heart is still beating frantically and I realise for the first time how my breath has quickened.

The device that Ba'al said would return my memories!

How could I have not instantly remembered such a thing?

"I know where it is," I say, controlling my breaths carefully. I almost offer to lead them there, but first something occurs to me. "Perhaps I'd best tell you the way and meet you there." I'm met with confused expressions. "I'm not meant to be out here either; If Ba'al's caught on that I'm not where I'm supposed to be, he'll be looking for me as well. Besides..." I sweep a hand down my body, gesturing at my apparel. "I think I'd make you stand out a little bit too much, don't you think?"

Jack raises his eyebrows, truly smiling this time. "Yeah, I was going to ask about the dress."

I scoff, shaking my head. "I hate it," I tell him, and this earns me smiles from all three of them.

"I have no doubt," says Jack with a laugh; I can see there's a good story behind my reply and I make a note to ask them about it later.

I give them directions. Rights, lefts, transportation rings.

Provided that none of us are caught, we'll arrive at about the same time since our routes are about the same length, from what I can recall. If not, I'll be sent to my room (for some reason that sounds strange as I think it) and they'll be…well, I'm not sure what Ba'al will do to them anymore. Steal their memories. Hurt them. The very thought puts a sickness in my stomach and I push it from my mind.

I check outside once more. It's clear.

"You're going right first," I tell them, "and I'm going left."

"Hang on," says Daniel, pulling off his pack and retrieving something from it. He hands me a small, rectangular device with ten buttons on it. "It's called a GDO. We use it tell Stargate Command that we want to come through and that we're not...anybody else."

"Ah," I reply, concealing the device in one of the many folds in my skirt. "Okay." Teal'c, Daniel and I turn to Jack.

He begins towards the exit. I frown – for the first time, notice something.

"You're limping," I say simply, staring at him, a little worried. "Are you alright?"

The three of them exchange glances. "Fine," says Jack. "I just twisted it on a mission not long ago. It's still a bit tender."

"Ah," I reply, but I sense there's more.

No time for that now. "Let's hit that yellow brick road, Dorothy," says Jack.

I don't quite understand, but I smile slightly, reply, "See you soon," and we go our different ways.

* * *

: Author's note :

Well, here's Chapter Five for all your cliched metaphorical needs ^^;

Also, in unrelated news, Jack's line about "putting on something black and slinky to do some funky poaching" is an homage to the _X-Files; _from the episode _Memento Mori_, the scene it's from is one of my favourites for Mulder-and-the-Lone-Gunmen banters ^^

Thanks for reading~!


	6. Chapter 6

"_How's the ankle, sir?" asks Sam, quickly looking at her bandaging handiwork. _

_Jack coughs and groans in pain. "As well as can be, for a horribly twisted ankle," he replies. There's a beat of silence for an unasked question. "I'm not going to be able to walk on it, though."_

_Sam nods her head once thoughtfully, then once sharply. "Right," she says. She gets to her feet and looks out from behind the tree that conceals them – only to quickly pull it back again. A portion of the tree evaporates in a fiery ball of plasma, leaving nothing but the acrid smell of burnt carbon. "We've got to go," she says, reaching for one of his hands to pull him upright._

_He pulls away. "Carter," he says, voice strong but quiet. "I'll just slow you down."_

_She's just as strong. "No, sir."_

"_Major, that's an order! Get out of here!"_

_She looks at the troops quickly gaining on their position and makes her decision quickly. "I am not leaving you behind." She takes his weight and they hobble along, moving more quickly than he had anticipated. It's not much longer until the 'gate is in sight. They meet Daniel and Teal'c there; she hands Jack to Teal'c and the two men go through. She fires into the oncoming troops, moving backwards in small bursts. She orders Daniel through, and he goes. She turns to the rippling blue surface. _

_It's her turn now._

Chapter Six

I make myself as small as I can as another patrol comes my way. I'm either entering a more populated area of the base, or my luck is draining faster and faster. The patrols are coming more frequently now than I could have ever imagined, yet I'm still managing to remain unseen; I'm feeling more scared than I've ever felt before, at least as far as I can remember. It's as though now, if I'm found, it'll mean something different. It's like my contact with my friends – no longer intruders – has made _me_ something different to Ba'al.

Each time, I've managed to hide in time to avoid detection. But I'm beginning to tire. It's taking me longer to find suitable hiding spots. The spaces are becoming narrower; suitable nooks fewer and further between. However, I breathe the tiniest sigh of relief: I've nearly made it to the transportation rings.

I poke my nose around the corner; I bring it back just as fast. _Four_ guards! For a single room, they have assigned four guards! Ba'al really must want to find me – or perhaps Jack, Daniel and Teal'c. Maybe all four of us.

I bite my lip, considering my options. I could try and make it to the other device of this kind on this floor. However, this option makes me nervous: it's taken me so long to get here, and if I double back, that will only increase the possibility of my being caught. Perhaps I could take out the guards? I nearly chuckle aloud to myself. These men, dressed in chain mail with muscles that seem to be thicker than my head…How could I even think of being a match for them?

I begin to consider other irrational options (finding one guard on their own and hoping my strength could rival his long enough to steal his weapon) but I'm cut short as they receive a radio transmission. I don't understand the language the message is in, but they pick up their staff weapons and two of them jog out and down the hall, thankfully not in my direction. The others press a combination of buttons on the panel – different to the ones I recall Ba'al using; the ones that I'll be using – and leave in a beam of white light.

I hardly want to believe what has happened. Surely my quest to meet my friends at the device cannot turn out to be so simple? I leave a few moments just to make sure the coast it clear; it certainly seems to be. I waste no more time after that. Deciding that the sounds my dress will make as I run will be made negligible by the speed at which I will exit, I make a dash for the control panel. The symbols light up under my fingers, but not in the order I want.

Suddenly, I hear a sound from the ceiling. The rings are going to descend! My first thought is that more guards are coming; I can't afford to wait around and find out. Without thinking, I dart towards the centre of the room, where the light envelopes me and I'm transported away.

It's only then I consider what might be waiting at my destination. My stomach lurches.

My heart pounds as I scan the room.

I'm not alone.

Outside the room, there are two guards. They're not looking in this direction – perhaps, having just sent troops away, they're not expecting anybody to appear in the same instance. I must use this to my advantage.

Thinking quickly, I remove myself from the spotlight of the centre of the room. I tread carefully so the sounds my shoes make no sound on the polished floors. Tucking myself behind a bulkhead, I kneel down and observe them. They're still occupied by monitoring the hall.

Grey, coiled weapons attached to the guards' hips catch my attention; they are the same as the weapon Teal'c carried. They hang at each of the guards belts, and another idea floats into my mind – a stupid one, I feel. Perhaps, if I was quick enough…

Without thinking about my stupid plan anymore (I might lose courage if I do that) I yank the weapon from the guard's belt and activate it. In the same movement, it's aimed and I discharge it, once at each guard, and they slump to the ground as unconsciousness is forced upon them.

My breath is laboured. So much excitement… I can hardly believe what I've just done. Yet, for this action guilt is nowhere to be found. I know they will wake up – and I know they wouldn't extend me the same courtesy of being sorry.

I don't spend much time here: I'm on a roll!

Dodging, hiding, running, silence…I'm an expert now!

Outside the device is unguarded, which surprises me. I also expected Jack, Daniel and Teal'c to be here now, since I gave them the safest route, but they're not. I hide in a corner for a while.

It might be an illusion that time is dragging its heels, but it seems to me they're taking an unprecedentedly long time to arrive. Worry, which has begun to fester since I arrived, now flourishes like fed bacteria on a hot day. I move forward as much as I can with as little risk to check the other direction.

Half of me immediately wishes I hadn't.

Coming from the opposite direction, weapon-less, vest-less and escorted by two guards each, is Jack, Daniel and Teal'c. I heavily rest my head against the wall, grateful for the little bit of pain it sends through it. I begin to back away; there's nothing I can do for them at the moment.

Warm breath on the back of my neck startles me; there's somebody standing behind me.

Two guards suddenly jerk my arms behind me, roughly locking them together with their steely grips. I am only just able to catch the cry of pain before it bursts from my lips. Their other hands are on my shoulders in the same concrete holds as they shove me unceremoniously after my friends.

I manage to catch Jack's glance. "I'm sorry," I say.

"Not your fault," he says loudly. "It was an ambush."

I grimaced. The transmission that called away the guards from the set of rings I wanted to use…

Ba'al enters, rubbing his hands together. "Well, well, I can't really say it's a pleasure to see you all." My jaw drops…his voice! It's suddenly deeper, as if echoing inside his lungs, and distorted. And his eyes! For just a second, it's as though rings of liquid gold circle within them.

"The famous SG-1…" Ba'al laughs as though this is funny in itself. He rounds onto me. "And Major Samantha Carter."

My brow can crease no more. "You took my memories on purpose?" I demand. I had believed Jack, Daniel and Teal'c when they told me, but I have to admit… I didn't quite want to.

The smugness on his face answers me before he does. "Yes." he says; he's proud of this.

"Why?" I ask of him, my teeth gritted with anger that I'm trying not to let show.

A smug, self-satisfied smile comes to his face. "Since you're a lost cause, I'll indulge you," he says, pacing slowly back and forth before us, compiling his story. "SG-1 came on a search and destroy mission to destroy this extraordinary device that I have put so many resources into developing." He waves his hands towards the panel: one of the first things I ever saw when I woke up. "Instead of finding this, you found some vague details which I figured you would use to mount some sort of secondary mission – and no doubt be more successful than you were last time. Knowing this, I sent my troops to the gate to try and intercept you. Regrettably, they were too slow to stage a wholly successful ambush. But _you, _however, were the last one to step through the Stargate as the mission concluded and…" He smiles at the memory. "...my forces were able to capture you."

Memory swamps me and I almost stagger as the images swirl in my mind.

_The event horizon swallows Daniel ahead of her. She's five steps away. Behind her, she can hear the troops getting close, and the firing of weapons, and the shouting of orders, and the bushes nearby rustling. She channels the last of her available energy into her legs: she can't be caught now, not after all they'd managed to do tonight._

_It just wouldn't be_ fair_. She is so close that she can hear the gurgle of the energy fluctuations over the pounding of her heart, the breath in her chest and the thud of her boots. _

_A flash of orange light._ _An eruption of pain._ _The snapping of bone on cement._ _The blue wall of water hovers inches from her eyes as she is doused in black._

"They left you behind."

I look to Jack, Daniel and Teal'c. They all look so guilty. They can't immediately meet my eyes. Daniel's the first. His mouth hangs open with uncertainty – he knows what he has to say but doesn't know how to say it. That's something I can very much understand.

"Sam..." he says finally. "We didn't mean...We didn't realise...It was too late..."

Jack tries to take over what Daniel started. "There was nothing we could do... General Hammond wouldn't let us..." And fails.

It's Teal'c's turn. "We are sorry, Major Carter," he says in hushed tones: it's clear that he speaks on behalf of all three of them, and means it.

But they left me behind. I shake my head at them – they may have left me behind, but I don't remember it. All I know is that they've been good to me in the short time that I've known them and that's all that matters.

It's all that _can_ matter at the moment.

Besides, they're not the ones with guards pointing weapons at my head nor the one who wiped my memory, so in the grand scheme of things...

Ba'al raises an eyebrow and continues. "I made sure to keep the Stargate well guarded after that." He paces back and forth a few times, looking happily pensive, then turns back to me. "For a while, I tried to…_persuade_ you–" I shudder to think at what those words imply "– to provide me with information pertaining to the security of your petty planet, but you were more stubborn than I had anticipated. I thought I could perhaps try a different approach to obtain the information by use of this device – a decidedly more gentle approach."

Panic courses through me. I desperately try to remember what I've told him over the last few days. Had I said anything that Ba'al had been looking for? Had I said anything that would endanger my friends? I try to reassure myself. I do something that I'd never thought I'd do: find comfort in that in these last few days, I've remembered nothing at all, much less anything important.

Annoyance flashes over Ba'al features. "I was then faced with the challenge of getting you to remember certain things but not others."

"_That's_ why you didn't want me to remember your name? Because then I might have remembered that you were a megalomaniacal psychopath?"

Ba'al bobs his head. "Yes."

"And you lied to me about my name because...?"

"Quite simply, your name connected you these...things." He sneers at SG-1. "I couldn't have you remembering that they would come to rescue you, could I?" He laughs softly, then continues his explanation.

"It then became apparent to me that, regrettably or not regrettably – I haven't decided yet – my device had been too strong and your memories were buried far too deeply for me to retrieve through any manner of gentleness."

I try to swallow; my mouth has become dry. "What use was I then?" I don't know why I ask: I feel I already know the answer. "You said I was important to you."

Ba'al shrugs, uncaring. "You were very important to me. You were my hostage. You were my assurance that _this lot_…" His nose turns up and he waggles his fingers in disgust at my friends. "..would still show up eventually."

I can feel my anger flaring again. Daniel was gives me this look; I'm not quite sure what it is telling me, but at this moment I don't care. I have something to say.

"So let me get this straight!" I am yelling now. I don't care if he knows I'm angry. Even though I know I'm only fuelling his enjoyment of our predicament, I am sure this is going to make me feel better. "You stole my memories! You used me as bait to capture my friends!" I am positively _glowering_ now, spitting my words like a fire spits sparks of burning debris. "_You_ made me wear this god forsaken dress!" Despite how much it hurts, I manage to wrench my arm from the guard's hold. The other one soon follows; the guards are surprised at my strength and sheer willpower.

From day one, I have wondered about the magnitude of my own strength and yet, none of that matters as I approach Ba'al like a cyclone. He is looking almost jaw-droopingly surprised and it's as though he's not quite sure what to do as he stands there, worried.

My fingers curl themselves into a fist and I reach back to gather momentum; my fist flies forward, hell-bent on making contact with Ba'al's nose; it lands with a satisfying _crunch_ on its target.

The guards react quickly. I soon find one of my cheeks smarting and my arms pulled behind my back once more. My friends are objecting and struggling against their captors, but their guards must've been paying more attention to them than they were to me: _I,_ after all, was just a woman. As their struggling calms, I notice that all three of my friends keep glancing at me with pride. Especially Jack.

Ba'al's nose is bleeding, and he wipes it as he pulls himself straight. "Take them to the holding cell," he orders. I whistle softly in amusement. If he wasn't mad before, he sure is now! He looks directly at me. "Don't expect any special treatment this time, Major Carter." With his long cloak swishing, he leaves the room. "Your welcome is very much worn out."

* * *

::Author's Note::

Whoo, infodumping! I apologise for the tedious turn we took in this chapter, but I felt I needed to get that out of the way so we can move on to escaping and, if I can think of a way to make it happen, finding memories! n.n;;

Anyway...

Thanks again to beta drey'auc475 for her managing to make sense out of my chaos (and I offer another profuse apology for hounding her to finish this chapter n.n;;; ).

Thank you for reading ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

_The jaunty theme song of the 'Wizard of Oz' plays softly somewhere, rousing Sam from her slumber. She opens her eyes and looks up at her makeshift pillow. _

_"Comfy?" Jack asks, gently pulling her head onto his shoulder once more; he isn't met with protest._

_She smiles. "Yeah," she replies._

Chapter Seven

The silence in the cell is just as cold as the shiny, black floor that I've been staring at for about an hour. It looks as though Daniel may be sleeping, and I think Teal'c is meditating. Several hours of not knowing quite what to say must be draining – I certainly don't blame Jack, Daniel or Teal'c. I, on the other hand, know exactly what to say but I would somehow feel guilty breaking such a heavy silence. It is, after all, my fault that they're stuck here. They came to rescue me, or rather, the person I'd been before my memories were stolen from me.

Instead, they come to discover that the person I had once been, the person they had been looking for was long gone and I was all that was left…The useless shell, the remnant who managed to get them all captured and locked in a cell.

A voice startles me. "It's not your fault, Carter," says Jack. My thoughts had robbed me temporarily of sight; he'd been watching me.

I'm stunned: had I been unconsciously speaking aloud? Seeing my shock, Jack lets a hint of a smile appear on his face.

"Don't look so surprised," he says, leaning back on the cell wall leisurely. "I know you well enough to know what that look means." I'm still not able to form a sentence. He takes the opportunity without hesitation. "Don't worry about it," he presses.

I… That… It's too simple! He's not supposed to forgive me so easily!

I look around, since I'm now too jumpy to maintain a steady gaze anywhere – my fingers, the floor, the ceiling, Daniel or Teal'c. Out of places to look, I finally look to Jack as well.

I'm well aware that I'm still wearing what Jack has referred to as "my thinking face" but I can't help it. I _am_ thinking, after all. I'm only vaguely conscious of the fact that he's staring at me, however it doesn't bother me. I know he's watching me, but it is different to the times when Ba'al watched me. Jack isn't expecting anything; I'm not a test subject in his eyes. He is simply waiting. He waits for me to gather my thoughts, to harness the wild sentence fragments that run amuck in my mind – and then for me to _allow_ him to hear them.

It's somehow calming, knowing I'm in no way obligated to blurt out my thoughts. My mind slows. My eyes still. Already I feel more ordered.

"Dreams..." I pronounce slowly. "When I first woke up here, I thought I'd find nothing in my dreams. I thought I'd find the same nothingness as here in reality. But…" I pause to breathe. I look to Jack, hoping with all the air in my lungs that he'll understand what I'm saying. "I _do_ remember. When I sleep, I have these flashes, but there…I can remember _everything_, I can see _everything_ I've lost. But, in that place, it's just second nature to know what I know and I have no reason to hold onto it so tightly – because I think it'll always be there! And then I…" I shake my head, ashamed of myself. "And then I wake up and it's gone. I'm left with these familiar feelings and emotions I don't understand."

It had seemed almost natural to tell Jack these things when I started, but as I finish, I discover my heart has swollen in my chest and my head feels as though it's full of mist. I laugh at myself. Perhaps all I've just said made more sense as thoughts in my mind.

Jack isn't sure what to do now, I think, and neither do I – it seems a strange, "oh, and by the way" sort of thing to say (he never asked me anything, I realise, and I unprecedentedly threw my baggage at him).

He clears his throat. "Well," he says. "I can tell you right now that I've always had a way with words…" I smile as sarcasm nibbles at his tone. "...And this is an unusual instance, my being speechless. But, uh… I guess, um… if you can still remember in your dreams, then we can help you remember, you know, for real."

I don't even allow hope the chance to surface even for the smallest of moments. "I don't think that's possible." I subconsciously notice him moving to sit next to me. I sniffle back tears that are, again, threatening to humiliate me. "I've _tried_," I explain. "I've tried so many times and I still can't…" Even as I try to use the prospect of embarrassment to my own advantage, my vision becomes hopelessly blurred and my sniffles grow more difficult to keep quiet.

All of a sudden, there's a strong arm around my shoulders. Jack pulls me close and I rest my head on his shoulder.

"It's okay," he whispers, and I'm grateful for the warmth that his embrace gives. "The Tok'ra have this memory…thingy…that'll help you remember, I promise."

A familiar feeling washes over me fleetingly like a soft breeze on a winter afternoon. Still, I don't have a clue what Tok'ra is, nor what its memory…thing…is.

I try to hold onto that levity while I try not to sound too hopeful. "Ba'al tried to dig up my memories with his machine; it didn't work."

"The Tok'ra's doohickey will." Surely he's not as confident as he sounds. "And God knows I've hated those guys," continues Jack, laughing in such a way that could only be described as a release of nervous tension, "But gee…a better doohickey has never been invented."

In spite of myself, I have to laugh as well. Not quite hesitantly, I lean closer into him. He doesn't seem to mind. "So…" I quickly sober; my voice drops to just above a murmur. "Do you really think it could work?" I know there's only one way he'd ever answer me, but I need to hear it; I _have_ to hear it. I look up at him.

He meets my eyes. "It has to."

All of a sudden, there are footsteps. In half a heartbeat, Teal'c is on his feet, Jack half a heartbeat behind him. Daniel, who is prodded awake by several gentle nudges of Jack's toe, takes a little longer to be on his feet, but he soon is fully aware and what is happening and is alongside Jack and Teal'c. I'm up too, but hang back slightly: I don't want to be even more of a burden on these people.

Guards appear at the entrance to the cell. "Colonel O'Neill will come with us," they say, their tones more solid and unvarying than a rock preserved in a solid steel vault. A tremor takes to my knees as I watch Jack leave. Apart from the pained smile he throws to each of us as he leaves, he dares not glance back at us as he disappears behind the lowering door. Resigned, I let myself fall back down to the hard bench.

Daniel can see me worrying. "He'll be alright, Sam," he tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nod, eager but disinclined to believe him. I look over to Teal'c for confirmation. The tall man nods once, but it's clear that they both know something important that I don't. I feel bile rise in my throat and I have to squeeze my eyes closed fight both it and to control the shudder that I can feel tingling in my spine. I lean back against the wall and try to relax, but –

I can't begin to imagine what Ba'al might be doing to Jack.

All I can imagine is pain. I can imagine its jagged rivulets that tear into his nerves. I can imagine the white hot fire that rages in his brain, a limitless inferno that burns infinitely hotter as he tries to regain his breath before he's inflicted with a new pain. I can imagine the sweat that he's bleeding like a life force as he tries to hold back his own cries, only to have them tear from his throat anyway...

"Sam," says Daniel, more strongly this time, cutting through my thoughts. "We'll get you out of here – we'll all get out of here."

"Indeed." It's Teal'c's turn to contribute. His eyes bore into mine, set with determination. "We have left you behind on one occasion already. It will not happen again."

I nod vacantly and turn away – they say they left me behind, but I can neither remember nor believe it.

I'm tired. I'm conflicted. I need sleep, but don't know what good it'll do. I don't want to be awake to think the thoughts that are running through my mind, but I don't want to sleep to remember things I'm only going to forget again. I want to run – somewhere, anywhere – and yet I want to find the most obscure corner to curl up in and stay there. Feeling useless, I lean back against the wall again and close my eyes.

* * *

:: Author's notes ::

We are nearing the end! Only a couple of chapters to go now n.n An elephant-sized thank you to everybody who's read and/or reviewed; thanks again~

Thanks, as usual, goes out to beta drey'auc475, who ensures my writing isn't packed with words that I made up ^^;;

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and have a really great day ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

_They're lucky to be alive: nothing unusual, really. But this one feels different. This time, locked in a Goa'uld cell, seeing things they wished they'd never seen. There, as they had stared into the face of death, truly saw each other, as honest and as clear in their emotions as they had ever been. The atmosphere had been dense between the two of them since they'd made it out alive, even if perhaps only they had noticed. Practice they hadn't known they were getting had suddenly come in very useful._

_Tired of feeling uncomfortable, Jack makes his way to Sam's lab, where he just watches her work for a while. He knows that it won't alleviate the discomfort in the long run, but in the short-term, it made him feel _better_._

"_What if I retired?" Jack asks suddenly, without even a word of greeting._

_Sam doesn't even flinch, as though she's been expecting him. "We're needed," she sighs._

"You're_ needed," he corrects her. "I'm just here to make us look cool."_

_She hangs her head with a sad smile but even that soon falls. "You know that's not true. You're needed as much as I am. And General Hammond'd never let you." Just because she speaks the truth, she doesn't have to like it. He can hear how disheartened she is. Normally, he'd say something witty, if slightly dense, to remedy that in a heartbeat. Except he knows it as well as she does._

_Words fail him. "I'm sorry," he says and goes to leave. She but nods in reply: she's sorry too. _

_The next words that stumble from Sam's mouth, Jack knows she hasn't properly thought it through. He can hear her reluctance to express such a significant sentence without the proper deliberation, but the speed of the situation hasn't given her much of a choice. And Samantha Carter has always had a habit of coming up with things just at the right moment._

"_After we win the fight," she says, freezing in anticipation as she waits for his reply. "Do you think we can wait until then?" _

_He turns and looks over his shoulder, his eyes only just visible to her. "After the fight," he promises, and he's gone._

Chapter Eight

The heavy grating sound of the door as it opens wakes me before I realise I've even been asleep. I'm still bleary-eyed and not quite alert, but I soon jump to my feet, half in fear and half in horror. There's the awful sound of a body crumpling to the floor and I stand on my feet, useless, looking at Jack as he lies unconscious on the ground.

Oh my god! He's bleeding! He's hurt! Is he dying? I rush to his side and drop to my knees, Daniel and Teal'c not seconds behind me.

I roll him over so he's not face down anymore; his nose is bleeding from his hard contact with the floor. Panic seizes my brain and emotion shudders in my stomach: as I look at him like this, it puts a tremor in my limbs and takes a hold of my throat.

I need to do something! Anything! He's dying! But what should I do? Stop the bleeding! Wake him up! Leave him asleep! Lie him face down! Lie him on his side!

"Sam…" Daniel gently pushes me out of the way so he can grab Jack's legs and both he and Teal'c lift him onto one of the benches.

"You!" Fear had gripped my vision to the point where the fact that the guards were still there had escaped my notice. Now, a guard points at me with his staff weapon. "Lord Ba'al wants one more word with you," he says, conjuring a smile to match the evil glint in his eyes.

I'm not sure if my legs will be able to comply. The weapon pointed at me the least of my worries, my eyes are glued to Jack…

What if he's already dead?

"I said, you!" The guard is impatient. He storms into the cell and sharply jabs me in the back. I lose my already unsteady footing, falling forward as I'm robbed of my breath and pain spreads across my back. For a moment, I fear I'm going to fall flat on my face but I'm seized by the arm and hauled upright, the fingers on my flesh being none too gentle.

The cell door I hear closing behind me.

Then Daniel: "No, wait! Take me instead! Sam!"

I can't respond. I don't have the strength or the will – besides, what would I say? 'Don't worry, I'll be fine'? Nothing I could say would be said to such a calibre that it would bring him peace of mind. No, it would only make it worse. It's better to be silent.

Daniel calls out again, but soon quiets. I close my eyes as I'm dragged – _please _let he have silenced of his own accord.

Before I know it, I'm dumped in front of Ba'al. Niggling at the back of mind is a harsh reality, a reality that disagrees with my very being as I do not move from this position: I'm too tired to be angry. I'm too resigned to put up a fight. I'm too worried about Jack to contemplate escape. My heart weighs a tonne, holding onto everything my head has forgotten.

"I can't give you anything," I say, defeat in every syllable. "I don't remember anything. What do you want from me?" What should be a question emerges as a statement, since I really don't care to know. I don't _care_, I don't _know_ I just…

My head droops forward slightly as I look at the ground in front of me. What I'm about to say will give Ba'al no-end pleasure. It will mean he has won. "Please," I ask of him. "Just let us go home."

I shouldn't feel as deflated as I do when Ba'al laughs in my face. He snaps his fingers and points at the guards. "Leave us!" he commands and they promptly vacate the room. "You would have me let you go and necessitate my catching the lot of you another day? Ha! I think not." He sighs dramatically as he sits in the throne towards the end of the room. "No. The reason I have brought you here is, in my merciful ways, to give you one last chance."

To do the impossible? To remember? Would there have been anything else? "One last chance to do what?" He steps down from his throne and lowers himself to my level. With a hand on my chin, he forces me to look at him.

"Tell me how to penetrate Earth's defences. Tell me how to infiltrate Stargate Command." His voice is viciously quiet. I stay silent. "You _clearly _remember the rest of SG-1 – what else have you been hiding?" I keep my lips sealed. He begins to yell. "How do I access Stargate command? Tell me!" He jerks his hand to the side and I'm thrown to the floor. Still resigned, I pick myself up. "Tell me and save your friends."

"I can't remember anything," I say in a monotone, tears making wet tracks down my face. This is what I hated, my worst nightmare. I owe it to my friends to remember – but this time it means saving their lives. And… I can't do it. "I can't," I repeat. "Not even your machine could help me. I don't remember. Please."

Ba'al laughs again, this time louder. "Not even for your friends? Ha! The great Major Samantha Carter, rumoured to be one of the greatest minds in the galaxy, can't remember a little information to save the lives of her team!"

I close my eyes. I've had enough of this: of everything; of being useless; of hurting my friends. "I'm not that person," I say, my eyes remaining closed. "Not anymore."

He cackles again, gloating, gleeful. I sigh and shake my head. No.; there's nothing.

All of a sudden, he's silent. "Take her away," he orders. "Bring Doctor Jackson."

I'm dragged to my feet by two guards, one at each arm, and my protests are silent. My eyes don't move from the floor as I'm taken back to my cell, the echoing of clanking suits of armour sounding like clocks that tick closer to our demise.

The cell comes into view as I chance a glance forward. Two guards stand outside with their helmets on, as they had done when we left, one on either side of the door. They stand tall and stiff and I spare them no more than a second's attention: what's two more people who want all three of us dead?

The door to the cell crunches open, the same as it had always done. My guards walk me right to the entrance, and I expect another sharp stab on my back to push me in the rest of the way. However, as I scan the room I notice that something is different…

There's Jack, but where's…

I'm suddenly yanked back, and there are two groans of pain as a metal fist comes into contact with one of the guard's face. The other is met with a staff; both crumple to the ground, only semi-conscious, before one of the helmeted guards pulls out one of the zig-zag weapons and fires at each of the guards.

They quickly move the unconscious men inside, retracting their helmets. "Daniel, Teal'c," I say with a smile, perhaps the first true one today. I duck inside and hook one of Jack's arms around my shoulders, supporting his weight; Daniel's at my side doing the same in a second and together we carry Jack out into the corridor.

I grimace under Jack's limp weight. He's not bleeding so badly anymore but a bruise around his eye has become infinitely more vivid since I left. I don't know if it's such a good idea to move him – what if we hurt him more? But we have no choice. "We need to get out of here," I say, beginning to move down the corridor. "Now."

"Indeed," says Teal'c as he hands me one of the weapons of the unconscious guards.

"Wait," hisses Daniel and we come to a stop. "What about the device? We can't leave it intact: this could happen all over again."

I have to think for a second. My uncomfortable shifting has nothing to do with the extra weight on my shoulders; I look across at Jack hanging limply between the two of us and swallow hard. Shakily, using my free hand, I reach up and touch his face. His flesh is so warm and mine, so cold by comparison. He barely even notices the contact, even as I wipe a drop of blood from a half-cauterised wound on his head with my sleeve. The bruise on his eye is swelling: even if he had been awake, he would have been unable to see through it. Through the hand that I'm holding around my neck, I can feel his pulse – but only just. And I think it's weakening.

"We have to keep going," I say in a whisper, holding Jack closer.

Surely saving someone's life is more important than destroying an object... isn't it? _Jack_ is more important than that. Losing him like this, when he's come to rescue me... it'd be as though somebody had stolen the stars from the sky and had blatantly thrown them in the rubbish bin. It would be like traversing treacherous terrain to find sanctuary, only to find that it had long been colonised by territorial beasts. It'd be akin to fighting my way down the most terrifying, lonely tunnel and the light at the end was a lie. It was just a machine, after all... wasn't it?

_A machine that stole your memories and placed you at the mercy of your enemy – and could do the same to countless others._

An internal voice hisses at me; despite how worried I am for Jack, I just can't shake Daniel's words. The voice is still there; it's so subtle that it could have been a shiver down my spine and it refuses to silence itself.

_And what about the others? How much will they suffer in their enemy's hands? Will they be lucky enough to have friends that save them? What about the ones they leave behind, their friends, their family? How much of their suffering will rest on you? How much? How much!_

No!

I shudder to a stop: Teal'c and Daniel turn to see what is wrong. I quickly pull myself together and with a tight smile, I keep walking, suddenly more aware than ever of Jack's weight at my side.

Getting him home, making sure he is safe – that has to be the most important thing! How can it not be? This is _Jack_'s life I was talking about! Yet, the more fervently I tell myself this, the less convinced I become that it was true. Perhaps we could save one life by getting Jack home, but could we save all the others who were touched by the device? No, that would be impossible.

Maybe...

No! What am I thinking?

But maybe... Maybe Jack (and me: my heart was tearing from my chest with every stupid though I couldn't stop) would have to suffer a little bit longer for everyone who won't suffer in the future. Because of us. Perhaps there is only one option: that I have to destroy the device.

I could burst into tears right now for guilt of what I am thinking, but I don't. I look to Jack, still oblivious of his surroundings. I can feel myself involuntarily allowing Daniel to support more of Jack's weight.

I have to do this.

Oh God.

Even before I start to move, I can feel my jaw quivering and my vision becoming blurred. I can barely choke out, even in my thoughts, "Is this who I've become? Or is this what I remember of who I was?"

I subtly dry my tears and clench my teeth. "I'm sorry," I tell Jack in an undertone.

With as little warning as I can without causing Daniel to topple over, I leave him with the whole of Jack's weight.

"Go and find your gear," I instruct, surprised by the determination-fuelled confidence my voice projects. I receive confused expressions from both conscious men. "I'm going to destroy the device." Before they can object or stop me, I dart off and around the corner, the sound and impracticality of my dress becoming negligent in my single-mindedness.

As I tear around the corner, I'm aware that I'm not quite sure of what I'm doing. Instinct tells me that I should think about this more carefully, or do some research, or test it or something, but I've no time: Ba'al is expecting to have Daniel thrown at his feet anytime now and when he realises something's happened, this whole place will go on high alert and we'll be trapped once more.

But I won't let that happen. I'll make my improvisation work simply because it must. Somehow, this thought doesn't seem too strange – maybe I've thought it before.

I approach the ring room and make light work of the men guarding it in two shrieks of blue light; I punch in the combination with a vengeance. The troops guarding my destination are met with the same force. Weapon at the ready, I charge around the corner – but the guards here have heard the commotion. They're ordering backup, which will be here within a minute.

I shield myself behind a corner, feeling my chance slipping away with each moment I'm confined here. I can't afford to wait any longer. The continuous stream of weapons fire has barely ceased, but I take a deep breath and stick my head around the corner, aiming at random in the general direction of my opponents. I can hardly believe my luck as one of them falls to the floor. But the other is not deterred by the thud of his friend collapsing into unconsciousness. I have to duck and retreat several times before I finally managed to down the final guard.

A small portion of me expects that feeling knee-buckling relief to hit, but the larger portion picks me up and carries me quickly to the device. This, after all, is no time to feel relief. I'm not finished yet.

I waste a second glancing guiltily at the door, wondering how long it'll be before a platoon of soldiers march through and quite possibly kill me. But that's all the time I let slip by. I look from the device to the weapon in my hand and, shrugging to myself – why not? I ask – I fire at it.

But the device isn't consumed by the crackling electricity. Instead, my weapon's discharge spreads like water across glass over an invisible surface. Frowning in confusion, I touch the device, expecting the same unseen barrier, but my hand makes contact uninhibited. I fire again, and the same thing happens. I sigh, tucking the weapon away: it could have never been that easy. I scold myself for even considering the possibility. Immediately employing my next idea, I try to bludgeon it with the butt of the zigzag weapon; immediately, I know this method's never going to work, and not only that, but using such a violent and brutish scheme doesn't seem like the right way to destroy it.

Any_ way is the right way to destroy it,_ I tell myself, but smashing it to pieces isn't going to work. Not in the time that I have.

On the pedestal that the controls for the device stand on, there is a panel. Furrowing my brow in thought, I wedge my fingers beneath it and manage to jimmy it off; a draw covered in an array of lit crystals and sockets slides out. My mouth falls open in wonderment – despite its horrible function, the device's workings, its mechanics are amazing and somewhat beautiful. (I wonder if it's strange to refer to a machine as 'beautiful'.) A green light flashes erratically in my brain: I'm on the right track!

Hesitating slightly, I pull one of the crystals out; the surface flickers slightly and stays active, but the lights are duller now. So this configuration of crystals must be what provides the device with power – but if I merely deactivate it, surely Ba'al will be able to power it once more...

Suddenly, there's a spark.

Biting my lip is all I can do to prevent myself from yelping – not that it particularly matters, since I can hear alarms blaring and footsteps coming nearer. But I yank my hand away from the device, trying to ignore the sudden burst of electrical pain. In my intense thinking, I had forgotten just how close I'd been holding the crystal I'd removed to its active counterparts.

Gears are ticking away in my brain. _That's interesting_... I note silently. A spark...

My eyes widen. A devious smile tugs at my lips.

An idea!

If could somehow amplify the spark into something larger...

_Kaboom_!

I almost laugh alongside my revelation. I can tell that this'll not be the first explosion I've caused; there's a _very _familiar feeling that accompanies this. But amusement sparks and fades like a firework. I _have_ to make this work...what could I use?

_Think_, I demand of my brain. There has to be something here! I can feel my eyes darting across every single object within the room and I'm afraid that at this speed I'll miss the miracle that I'll need to complete my objective. Yet, at the same time, I can feel my brain processing everything, analysing it and only then moving on.

And then, my mind stops rushing. My devious smile inflates to a grin that borders on maniacal.

On the wall above a long, gold box are shelves – and they're _packed_ with jars of multicoloured chemicals. Like the thought of explosions, they hold a meaning; these are what I'll use to destroy the device, and they are how Teal'c, Daniel, Jack and I will escape!

I clamber atop the gold box beneath the shelves and scan the array of chemicals. Like the unexpected stab of a needlepoint, I suddenly feel panic: which one should I use? There are large, conical flasks with cloudy yellow liquids; there are smaller round flasks with cloudy red liquids; a bulbous flask holding an opaque blue liquid is held in its stand. (The names jump so clearly to my internal tongue and, despite the unyielding temptation to consider their implications deeper, I focus on the matter at hand.) In my hand, I can feel the crystal becoming slippery with nervous sweat. I need to make a decision and I need to make it quickly. Still, I cannot pick any vial. Hesitantly I reach out and pick up a flask containing vividly green liquid. I squint through the slightly obscuring glass...

A gasp suddenly echoes in my lungs as I feel the burning heat of what could have been my death smouldering in a black hole in the wall beside me. I spin quickly, nearly falling off the gold box and almost dropping the green liquid; there's a moment of horror as I juggle it from hand to hand, catching it just as it skims the surface of the floor. I groan, hurriedly lumping the flask into the same hand as the crystal and fumbling to pull my weapon into activation. I find myself unconsciously firing twice.

But there are more troops than two shots can dispose of. My chest is tight to the point of pain as I throw myself behind the pedestal. As I crouch there, I can hear the guards' shots hitting the force field surrounding the device.

I'm out of time.

I chance a look to my enemies. There are too many of them – I'll never get out!

Trying to fight panic, I fire several more shots. It's still not enough.

There's only one thing I can do now. My hands shaking with the adrenaline that I'm dying to use to flee, I wrench the stopper from the neck of the flask. For a moment, my throat's seized by the realisation that the crystal may be too wide to fit inside but with a jiggle and final, heartfelt push, the crystal lands with a _clink_ in the bottom of the flask. My sweaty fingers replace the stopper and, holding the flask by the neck, I heft its weight. It makes a liquidy clunk as I test it against the crystals.

Just one problem.

It won't break.

I look to the source of the plasma balls that fly past, missing me by less than a whisper. I fire back; their advance slows, minutely.

I was never fond of the idea of being caught in my own explosion, but the thought of being shot, caught or killed by the descending troops isn't too appealing either. It's one or the other. Maybe survive and possibly destroy the device or definitely destroy the device. Hope or resignation. I need to destroy it. It _must_ be destroyed.

And yet, after all this time being choked by memories that I don't have, after such hopelessness, such helplessness...I choose hope.

With a cry in my throat and the flask in my hand, I push out from behind the pedestal, running full force towards those who are shooting at me. My actions put a crease in their faces; for a confused moment, their weapons are still. As I near the door, I turn, raising the flask to shoulder height and channelling my strength behind it. Angle, elevation, force...The aspects of my throw course through my mind as I adjust my trajectory with speedy accuracy.

There! That's it! All I need to do...!

But the world is coming up to greet me. In shock, I look down just in time to see my dress caught beneath my shoe. I'm falling forward and although I reach out to break my fall, I can't prevent myself from hurtling through the air.

I almost welcome the floor as it crashes against my arm, then my head. How stupid could I have been? I'd been so fearful of tripping over my dress and now when it matters, when it matters _the most_, I stumble like a child!

I pick myself up, twitching at just the right moment to avoid my death, thankful the flask is still in one piece in my hand. But the guards' shock has worn off now, and I have to move randomly to avoid their shots.

I cannot afford to think about this any longer.

I turn and the flask leaves my hand, twisting over and over in the air as it flies toward the crystal panel.

Everything is silent. Everything I remember at this moment is dependent on this one movement. In anticipation, my mouth opens – I'm not convinced that it'll hit its target.

_Please_, I hope. _Please_...

The fragile rain of broken glass is the first sound to break the silence. My eyes widen, but this time not in hope but in realisation. Every drop of the green liquid that drips onto the crystals is like a bang of a gavel. As the crystal within the flask _clink_s into contact with the others, the spark it produces a sound like the gnarling and twisting of metal being crushed into a ball. I bowl over the guards as the chemical catches fire; I'm propelled by the blast wave back; the device that stole my memories erupts in a deafening fireball.

The flames quickly run dry of fuel and they fade from existence but long before that, I'm firing at the guards who are still standing.

But I'm not quick enough. They're firing back – as I feel the cold stab of an activated weapon pressed to the small of my back and a gruff voice demand, "surrender", I fall still, the troops before me no longer firing but their weapons still trained on me intently. I raise my hands and allow my zigzag weapon to clatter to the floor.

At least the weapon is destroyed.

I close my eyes.

Weapons discharge.

... but they don't feel like what I thought they'd feel like. Not searing pain and bone-shattering force.

Relief.

"Major Carter." A voice calls me. I turn, confused, to look at its source, surprised that I am still able to do so. Unconscious bodies are littered around my feet, their weapons discarded at their sides. My eyes brighten and a smile appears on my face.

"Teal'c!" I exclaim, inexpressibly thankful for his appearance.

A small smile is mirrored on his own features. "As we have said, Major Carter," he says solemnly, "we will not leave you behind again." Before my chest has time to inflate with immense gratitude, Teal'c continues. "Daniel Jackson is waiting, hidden, with Colonel O'Neill near the rings. We must leave now."

Collecting my weapon from the floor, I nod and follow him down the corridor.

It's time to escape.

* * *

:~: Author's notes :~:

Not quite the end yet but this chapter's taken the most work so I'll include a large helping of gratitude here ^^

As always, a big 'thank ye' to Dreyauc457 for picking up all my silly mistakes and rewording the odd lexical scrap pile. *applauds*

And slightly atypically, thanks very much to Mia66, who reminded me to I actually needed to deal with the device ^^; Thanks for inspiring and convincing me not to cheat my way out of the whole scenario.

Thanks for reading; have a great day ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

_Two o'clock in the morning and, for once, Sam is tired. It's the kind of tired that comes after a day of panicking quietly while still trying to remain optimistic and logical – the kind that sleep has no time to fix. Her hands are starting to tremble with the amount of caffeine in her system, but her mind refuses to be fed by the chemical. _

"_I can't sleep now," she tells herself aloud, turning back to the graphs on her screen. But it takes almost all her effort to keep her eyes there, let alone process what they're telling her in any useful way. Besides, even through her haze of sleepiness, she's moderately certain they're just telling her what she doesn't have and thus are completely futile._

"_I don't know if I can find a way to fix this in time," she says to herself, leaning forward onto her arms, resigned. _

_Suddenly, there's a hand on her shoulder. "You'll think of something," says Jack. "We'll be okay."_

"_Will we?" she asks, defeated._

"_We will," he tells her firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "We will."_

Chapter Nine

Teal'c and I meet Daniel holding Jack with the older man's arm slung over his shoulder, and still unconscious, in a discreet corner of a corridor.

"Sam!" Daniel greets me, relief spreading like spilt joy over his features. "We heard an explosion. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," I say with a smile. "The device has been destroyed." It's then that I realise the sudden levity of my heart: the battle for everyone else is done, and we're on our way home.

"Okay," says Daniel in sudden resolved determination, breaking through my moment of silent, wonderful realisation. He's panting a little with the effort of carrying Jack. "We need to find our gear and get to the 'gate." I rush to his side and retake half of Jack's weight. Here, underneath this weight, I realise if just for the time being, I really do have a purpose: to protect Jack and Daniel and Teal'c and help them all home safely. Even though Jack's leaning on my shoulder, I feel lighter still.

Although, in a few metre's walk down the hall, I find myself breathing with much the same lack-of-ease as Daniel and I make a point not to think about how we'll cope with the journey to the Stargate.

"We have no need of our gear, Daniel Jackson," says Teal'c, peering around the corner ahead of us and indicating that it's clear. "We need only to escape."

"What about our GDO's?"

Teal'c goes to reply, but stops himself. He clearly had forgotten about that.

I frown, patting my skirt. Luck had been unkind enough to us today, surely. Could it be that maybe...? Did they… "Aha!" I breathe, not wanting to be too loud in my triumph. I pull the device Jack gave me from within the layers of my skirt. "Still got it!"

Daniel huffs a sigh of relief. "The GDO!" he exclaims softly. "Way to go, Sam!"

"Indeed," chips in Teal'c with a smile.

"And I thought this dress wasn't good for anything!" I say, the feeling of falling through the air as a result of tripping on my skirt now enshrouded in a somewhat humorous light. "Now let's go!"

Teal'c checks around the corner once more and then deactivates his weapon. "I fear we have little time," he says. Then, he takes Jack from between Daniel and I and puts him over his shoulders. "We will be able to move faster this way," he says, sounding as though he was exerting no extra effort at all. He reactivates his weapon. "You must go ahead and clear the way."

My weapon squeals into activation and, with Daniel close behind, we move down the corridor.

Two guards stand outside the transportation ring room, oblivious to our presence. Daniel and I co-ordinate our efforts; soon, they are lying unconscious on the ground. We drag them out of sight.

Something sticks in my brain and my brow furrows. "Hang on a minute," I say, thinking, as Daniel heads toward the control panel. "I have an idea." Both Daniel and Teal'c look a little worried, but they help me to drag the guards to the middle of the ring. With the push of a button, I send them to our destination.

"What did you do that for?" Daniel asks. I push him back behind the door frame, finger poised on the trigger.

"Just wait a minute…" I say, frowning.

Wait for it…

The rings activate again, bringing five, no six, troops up, guns at the ready. Before they've blinked half of them are rippling with the blue charge that rips through them and are falling to the ground; the other half are taken out a second later by Daniel and Teal'c who follow my lead.

"That should reduce our resistance on the ground a bit," I say as I start to drag the bodies out of the circle. Teal'c and I stand in the centre; Daniel hits the combination before joining us and we're disappearing in a beam of light in a second.

It's dark outside. The stars are hidden behind clouds and the moon is at its thinnest, just penetrating the billowing sky. My eyes take but a moment to adjust to the low light conditions; my finger fires independently twice more, and the rest of the guards in the area fall to the ground.

We're plunged into silence. "That was a bit… easy," I say.

There's a howl in the distance – long and loud. I hear the bite of twigs snapping under steps and the barks of gruff voices.

I've spoken to soon.

All discretion forgotten, I yell, "Run!"

My breath comes in gasps. One foot over another, that's all that goes through my mind. That, and I hope that I don't trip over this stupid dress. Again. The GDO is clutched in my hand; I can feel sweat accumulating there, but it strengthens my determination and I hold on even tighter. Balls of orange light are flying around all of us, some coming so close that I can feel the trail of hot wind on my skin, and smell the slight singeing of clothes. I spare a glance behind to Daniel and Teal'c, who is still carrying Jack, every couple of seconds, hoping that they'll still be there when I next look around.

I'm confronted by a guard that steps out of the shadows of the bushes, his weapon aimed at me. I panic, my other hand hastily raising my own weapon; my eyes are wide, but my legs keep on running; I try to fire but I think I've missed the trigger; I almost crumple to the ground in relief as he collapses in a blue hum.

"That was close," I murmur to myself. "Way too close."

I can hear Daniel and Teal'c running alongside me now. I spare as little effort as I can to marvel at Teal'c's incredible strength: he's carrying the weight of two people and yet he still manages to keep up. Despite this, I cannot help but worry for both of them. Despite his best efforts, Teal'c is beginning to tire – as are we all – and Jack is in such a vulnerable position on the larger man's shoulders.

The weapon fire that's inches from hitting us is becoming more and more frequent. If we don't stay at our current speed, that'll be the end of our escape. We'll be stuck in this dreadful place with that horrible man.

The mere thought of Ba'al puts extra energy into my steps and determination in my senses.

The Stargate is beginning to come into view – it's like a ray of sun fighting to be seen in an ocean of storm clouds. My heart flutters. We're going to make it! I'll be home! I'll be able to remember again with that device that the Tok'ra has!

Those moments of hope make me forget about the fire that's raining upon us. Forget too much.

There's a groan behind me, and my hope plummets. "Daniel?" I call, coming to a stop immediately and searching beside me. "Daniel?"

"Sam! Back here!" I rush back, looking at the people firing at us in the face and returning fire with all that I'm worth. I drop to my knees beside Daniel and stare in horror at Teal'c. There's a glistening circle in his side that's only just visible in the limited light, but I know its blood.

"Oh my God," I say, watching helpless as Daniel removes his jacket and presses it to Teal'c's side.

"We must continue," groan's Teal'c, trying to get to his feet.

His efforts are in vain – he is simply no longer capable of carrying both himself and Jack. My mind races: there must be something I can do!

I shove the GDO into Daniel's hand. "Take this and activate the Stargate," I order, wasting no time and wrapping one of Jack's unconscious arms around my neck. "We'll be right behind you."

Daniel seems to know better than to argue. We don't have many other options anyway, what with me not remembering what symbols to press or codes to use, and Jack and Teal'c in no state to do it instead. I turn to Teal'c as I haul myself and Jack up. He's already beaten me to his feet. "Can you walk?" I yell over the noise of guards shouting and shots firing.

"I can," he replies, but I can hear the lack of resolve in his voice. We begin to move again, but it's so much slower than last time. Although I try to at least jog, the extra weight I'm carrying has slowed me to a little faster than a brisk walk; Teal'c has been reduced to a speed slightly slower than my own, and that scares me. He must be in a lot of pain, and yet he hardly complains.

We arrive at the dialling device just as the Stargate whooshes to life. I nearly stumble back in awe: I've not seen it active before. It's beautiful…

Well of course it's beautiful. Aside from the azure ripples that dance within its boundaries, it's the thing that's going to save all our lives and all of my sanity.

Daniel's typing on the little device that transmits the code to tell Stargate Command that we're us and not the bad guys. I manage to manoeuvre around and shoot oncoming enemy forces. But even as I do that, I know our luck is running out. I'm itching all over; Daniel can't type that code in fast enough; I can never run towards that wall of shining water quick enough.

The troops are getting harder and harder to keep at bay, and I'm finding it more and more difficult to stay standing. "Don't worry, Jack," I tell him, perhaps just to hear my own words of comfort. "We'll be home soon." It's a good thing he can't hear me. He would have spotted the lie immediately. Without turning, I call to Daniel, "We ready to go Daniel?"

"Code's through!" he yells back.

"Go, go, go!" I call, shuffling back as Daniel bolts for the Stargate's blue surface. "Teal'c, go!" The big man can hardly breathe as he half stumbles, half limps across the threshold and out of sight. "We'll be okay," I whisper to Jack as we push towards the Stargate. "It's our turn."

More orange. More singeing. More scalding breezes. The arm holding Jack to my side is aching like crazy, but I hold on tighter as we move closer and closer to home.

The blue wall is but metres away. Home! My memories! They're there!

My gasping breaths at some stage had turned to sobs, and they're getting worse with each step I take. I have to get there! It's so close…I have to get there!

Step, step. Closer, closer.

I'm there!

And then a cry tears from my throat. My side is stabbed with a blade of fire but the pain is short lived. Mist enshrouds my brain. Blackness steals conscious thought. Numbness steals my energy. I feel my grip on Jack loosening; we're falling, both of us.

I've failed him, I think from afar, and that hurts far more than my side. We're still falling.

"Not him," I plead to no one for Jack. "Not again," I plead for myself.

Then, there's a slurp, and I am claimed by unconsciousness.

* * *

:: Author's notes ::

Okay. Chapter Nine's finally up. Sorry it took so long~ I hope you enjoy it ^^

Next up's the epilogue, although with the apocalypse of NaNoWriMo approaching fast (check it out. It's fun nanowrimo dot org) and work, I'm gonna have trouble finding time to write it. Possibly even longer than this one. T_T

Thanks for reading this installment. Have a really nice day ^^


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